Ui'. 



MM 



lUJi 'iJi 






WOODS AND WATERS: 



OE, 



THE SARAIACS AND RACKET. 



MAP OF THE ROUTE AND NINE ILLUSTRATIONS ON WOOD. 



ALFRED B. STREET, 



Jfeu) Jlork: 

M. DOOLADY, 49 WALKER STREET. 



1860. 



0?1 



h 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1860, by 

ALFIIED B. STREET, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern 
District of New York. 



B, CRAIGHEAD, 

Primer, Siereoiyper, and Eleelrotyper, 

Caxtoit i3uiltiins. 

81, 83, and 85 Centre Street. 






To JOHN A. GEISWOLD, 

OF TROY, N. Y. 

I dedicate this book to you, as a memento of friendship and of the 
happy hours we have enjoyed, with the other members of the Saranac 
Club, in the great wilderness of our native State. 

The Author. 

Albany, K Y., August Ist, 1860. 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



CAMP SCENE, Vignette Title-Page. 

MOUNT SEWARD, 40 

MOOSE MOUNTAIN, '.48 

FLOATING FOR DEER, 84 

THE DEVIL'S PULPIT, 182 

INDIAN PASS, . . . 20T 

HEAD OP TUPPER'S LAKE— BOG RIVER PALLS, 284 

WHITEFACE NOTCH, 828 

WHITEFACE, 888 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

Introduction, , xv 



CHAPTER I. 
Camp of the Indian Carrying-Place. — The Saranac Club and Guides. — 
A Bear. — Seeking Deer and finding Musquitoes, 1 

CHAPTER 11. 
The Start from Home. — The Yankee's Story of the taking of Ticon- 
deroga. — The Ausable Yalley. — The Driver's opinion of Deacon 
Brown. — Scenery on the road. — A quotation under difficulties. — 
Harvey Moody. — Scenery at Baker's, 13 

CHAPTER III. 
The Saranac Boats. — The Buckboard. — Harvey kills a Deer. — The Song 
of Glencoe, 25 

CHAPTER IV. 
The Lower Saranac Lake. — The Eagle. — Mount Tahawus. — The Loon. — 
The Gull. — Moose Mountain. — Cove Hill. — Mount Seward. — White- 
face, 31 

CHAPTER Y. 
Lower Saranac Lake. — A Talk on Trapping. — A Moose Story. — Sara- 
nac River. — Moose Mountain. — Middle Falls. — Round Lake. — Um- 
brella Point. — Bartlctt's. — Upper Saranac Lake, 43 



Xll CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER YL 

PAGE 

Sunrise. — Indian Legend. — The Saranac Wizards. — Mode of Carrying 
the Boats.— The Beaver-Pond Hunt.— The Stony Ponds, 55 

CHAPTER YIL 

Stony Creek. — Origin of the Indian Plume. — The Kacket River, — 
Moose Talk. — Panther Story. — Palmer Brook. — Racket-Ealls Camp, . . G9 

CHAPTER VIII. 
Floating for Deer. — Night Scenery on the Racket, — Owls, — A Camp 
Scene, 82 

CHAPTER IX. 
Carry at Racket Falls. — Up the Racket. — Cold River. — Bowen's Camp. — 
Long Lake. — The River Driver. — Harvey's Woods. - Almanac, 97 

CHAPTER X. 
Camp Sketches in a Rain Storm. — Lumbering and River Driving, 104 

CHAPTER XL 
Camp Sketches.— Racket Falls Camp Left,— Down tl^e Racket to 
Calkins, — An onslaught of Musquitoes upon the Saranac Club. — 
Mart's imitations, 118 

CHAPTER XIL 
A Rainy Day on the Racket.— Down to Folingsby's Brook.— Folings- 
by's Pond.— Bingham and the Ducks.— Captain Fohngsby, 131 

CHAPTER XIII. 
Down the Racket.— Old Ramrod.— Trout Fishing at Half-Way Brook.— 
A Water-Maple.— Cloud Pictures.— Woods in the Wind.— The Great 
Oxbow.— Ramrod's Shanty; and Chase by Indians.— A Talk on Fish- 
ing, with the Opinion of the Guides about it.— A Night Scene on the 



River. 



148 



CHAPTER XIV. 
Simon's Pond.— Harvey's Story of Old Sabele, the Indian.— Driving 
Deer.— The Simon's Pond Pirate.— Tupper's Lake.— Night Sail on 
^^^^' 163 



CONTENTS. Xm 

CHAPTER XV. 

PAOB 

Tupper's Lake. — Old Sabele continued. — The Devil's Pulpit. — Its 
Legend. — A Deer's Leap, — The Camp. — Trout Fishing, lit 

CHAPTER XYI. 
Bingham Kills a Deer in the Lake. — The Indian Park. — Leo, the 
Indian. — The Loon. — Showers on the Lake. — In Camp, 188 

CHAPTER XVIL 
Thunder-storms. — Lightning Island. — Thoughts at the Indian Pass. — A 
high Wind. — Captain Bill Snyder. — Night Sail in the Wind. — Cove 
at the Devil's Pulpit. — Mist on the Water. — Harvey's Indian Story, . . 202 

CHAPTER XVIII. 
The Sabbath.— Preaching at the Indian Park.— The Pool.— The Sky.— 
Pontics.- The Constitution, 224 

CHAPTER XIX. 
Sail up Tupper's Lake. — Jenkins' Clearing. — The Shanty of the Spring. — 
Bog River Falls. — Head of the Lake. — Up Bog River, — Leo. — Track 
of the Moose. — Roar of the Moose. — Mud Lake. — Death of the 
Moose, 233 

CHAPTER XX. 
Back to Tupper's Lake, — Night Sail down the Lake, — The Echo. — De- 
serted Camp. — Message, woods fashion, — Tupper's Lake left, — Down 
the Racket, — Indian Camp, — The Water-lily, — Legend of its Origin, — 
The Mink. — News of the Party, — The Eagle-nest. — Through Racket 
Pond. — The Island, — The Irish Clearing. — Captain Peter's Rocks. — 
Camp at Setting-Pole Rapids, 248 

CHAPTER XXL 
Fish-Hawk Rapids. — Perciefield Falls. — Death of Sabele. — Beaver Trip 
agreed upon, — Floating, — The Dark Woods, — The Foot-Tread. — The 
Indian Jack-Light, 267 

CHAPTER XXIL 
Setting Pole Rapids behind,— Wolf Brook.— Little Wolf and Big Wolf 
Ponds. — Lumber-Road in the Rain, — Picture Pond, — Beaver Mea- 
dow. — Maine Shanty, 277 



xiv CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

PAQB 

Path Resumed.— The Medal.— Musquito Pond.— Rawlms Pond.— Flood- 
wood Pond.— The Sable.— A. Network of Ponds.— Long Pond.— The 
Cranes.— Slang Pond.— Turtle Pond.— Hoel's Pond.— Boat Left.— 
Through the Woods. — Beaver Meadows.— Beaver Signs. — Beaver 
Pond.— Beaver Houses. — A Beaver. — The Bivouac 285 

CHAPTER XXIV. 
Return Path. — Clamshell Pond.— Song-bu"ds. — Beaver-dam. — Beaver- 
talk. — Absence of Serpents. — Hoel's Pond. — Carry. — Green Pond. — 
UPPER SARANAC— Eagle.— Water-thatch.— Tommy's Rock.— 
Goose Island. — Harvey's Opinion of Neighbors. — Phin's Idea of Subor- 
dination.— The Loons.— Loon Talk, 299 

CHAPTER XXV. 
Up Fish-Creek Waters. — Old Dam at Floodwood Pond. — Big Square 
Pond. — Maine Shanty. — Beaver-dam. — Wind on Upper Saranac. — 
Bear Point. — The Narrows.— Deer in Lake. — Camping on Point. — 
Moonlight Scene. — Dawn. — Trail in the Woods. — Down Lake to 
Bartlett's. — Moonlight Sail through Lower Saranac. — Baker's, 313 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

Whiteface. — Approach to Mountain. — Upward. — White Falls.— 
Chasm. — Little Shde. — Great Slide. — Summit. — Prospect. — Descent. — 
Baker's. — ^Backwoods' Dance. — ^Whiteface Notch. — Homeward 324 



INTRODUCTION. 



The wilderness of Northern New York is a plateau 
ranging from fifteen to eighteen hundred feet above tide. 
It is one hundred miles in diameter. On the north and east 
it approaches within thirty or forty miles of the Canada line 
and Lake Champlain ; on the south, within fifteen or twenty 
miles of the Mohawk River, and on the west, within the same 
distance of Black River. It embraces nearly the whole of 
Essex, Warren, and Hamilton Counties, the southwest portion 
of Clinton, the south half of Franklin, the southeastern third 
of St. Lawrence, the eastern third of Lewis, and the northern 
half of Herkimer. 

Different portions of it are known under different names. 
The northern portion is caUed The Chateaugay Woods ; The 
St. Regis Woods lie next below ; then comes the Saranac 
Region ; then that of Racket Lake ; to the east extend the 
Adirondacks; and below, south and southwesterly, are The 
Lake Pleasant Region, and John Brown's Tract. 

The eastern portion of the plateau is exceedingly mountain- 
ous. Here lies the Adirondack range, or group, the most 
northerly in the State, extending in a general northeast direc- 
tion from Little Falls, on the Mohawk River, to Cape Trem- 
bleau at Lake Champlain. This range presents the conical 
summits cloven into sharp grey peaks peculiar to its hyper- 
sthene formation, and attains in some of its peaks nearly the 
height of one mile — almost the limit of eternal snow. 



XVI INTRODUCTION". 

These peaks are Tahawus or Mount Marcy (the central j 
and tallest, 5400 feet high), Mount Mclntyre, Mount St. 
Anthony (corrupted to Sanantoni), and Mount Golden. 

These mountains are generally isolated, sloping somewhat 
moderately toward the north, but precipitous at the south. 

Other summits rise north, south, and west, some equal in 
height to those named (except Tahawus) and others but little 
inferior — Dix's Peak, Nipple Top, Blue Mountain, Mount 
Seward (a cluster of peaks), Cove Hill, Moose Mountain, 
Mackenzie's Pond Mountain, and Whiteface. The last is the 
most northern of all the high crests of the wilderness, and 
hardly inferior in elevation to Tahawus. The region lying 
around the south base of Mount Seward was called by the 
Indians Cough-sa-ra-geh or " The Dismal Wilderness." 

In the middle portion of the plateau, the mountains are gene- 
rally rounded, and, like most of those mentioned above, waving 
from base to top with forest. The western portion is plea- 
santly varied by hill and plain. 

One great valley shaped like a Y crosses the whole plateau 
in a northeast direction. 

It begins at the junction of Moose River with the Black, 
continues seventy miles to a point six miles south of Upper 
Saranac Lake, here branching northerly to Potsdam in St. 
Lawrence County, and northeasterly to Plattsburg on Lake 
Champlain. 

A remarkable chain of lakes and streams extends along this 
valley and its northeastern branch, linking (with a few carries, 
and with the exception of twenty miles of rapids on the lower 
end of Moose River) Lake Champlain, through the Saranac 
River and Lakes, the Racket River, Long, Forked, Racket 
Lakes, the Eight Lakes, and Moose and Black Rivers, with 
Lake Ontario. The River St. Lawrence is linked with this 
chain, by the Racket River traversing the northern branch 
of this valley. 



INTRODUCTION. XVll 

The waters of this plateau fall naturally into four groups 
3r systems, the Saranac, the Racket, the John Brown Tract, 
md Hudson Kiver. 

The first system lies mainly in the southern part of Franklin 
County, and comprises the Saranac River and Lakes, with the 
network of ponds and streams lying west and north of the 
[Jpper Saranac. All these are discharged into Lake Champlain. 

The second lies just south, belonging to the south part of 
Franklin and the north of Hamilton Counties. It includes 
Racket River through those Counties ; Long Lake the two 
Forked Lakes ; Racket Lake ; Blue Mountain Lake (with its 
two lesser sheets. Eagle and Utowana Lakes, and Marion 
River), and Big and Little Tupper's Lakes; Blue Mountain 
Lake being the real source of the Racket River, although 
Racket Lake is generally so designated. These waters flow 
into the River St. Lawrence. 

The third group includes the Eight Lakes : the Reservoir 
Lakes and other head waters of Black River, and the Moose 
and Beaver Rivers its branches. This group lies in the west 
part of Hamilton, the northern part of Herkimer, and eastern 
part of Lewis Counties, and its waters flow into Lake Ontario. 

The fourth system produces the Hudson River, and occu- 
pies a portion of Essex County near the western line, and the 
east and south portions of Hamilton. It embraces the Upper 
Hudson, the Sacondaga, and Schroon branches of that river 
(the latter branch, however, is on the edge of the wilderness), 
Piseco, Round and Pleasant Lakes, and others. Thus, these 
sources pouring themselves forth to every point of compass 
form all the larger rivers of the State — ^besides those men- 
tioned, the Ausable, the Salmon, the Grass, the St. Regis, the 
Oswegatchie, and the East and West Canada Creeks emptying 
into the Mohawk. And thus, upon this great watershed, and 
within a circuit of ten miles, rise springs whose waters seek 
the seas of Labrador and the Bay of New York. 



xviii INTRODUCTION. 

The extraordinary arrangement of these sources is illus- 
trated by the fact, that the Upper Hudson ripples from the 
southwest portals of the Indian Pass, and the west branch 
of the Ausable River from the northeast. Preston Ponds, 
through Cold River, feed the Racket River at the west; 
Fountain and Catlin Lakes, west of these, supply the Hudson 
at the east ; and the Moose River, flowing south-west, almost 
twines with the Racket waters running north. 

Other waters are scattered over the plateau, but not falling 
within the above systems: the east and west branches of 
the Ausable, Lake Placid, at the foot of Whiteface, Cran- 
berry Lake, an enlargement of the Oswegatchie River, and 
Chateaugay, Ragged, and Chazy Lakes, near the northern 
edge of the forest. 

Rich marbles are found in the plateau ; valuable timber 
and beds of iron ore abound. The last-mentioned, although 
distributed generally throughout the forest, are found most 
abundantly in the eastern portion of the plateau, and are as 
extensive as any in the world. One bed on the Upper 
Hudson (between Lakes Henderson and Sanford) is worked 
easily, yields seventy-five per cent, of pure metal, and will pro- 
duce a steel equal to that of the best Swedish or Russian ores. 

The valleys of the eastern portion of the plateau, and the 
middle and western portions generally, are capable of sup- 
plying nearly all the agricultural products native to the 
State, such as rye, buckwheat, oats, peas, beans, turnips, and 
potatoes. The soil, however, is especially adapted to grazing. 
There is but a small quantity of arable land in the moun- 
tainous or eastern section; and even this, although strong 
(shown by its heavy growth of timber) is made less valuable 
by its low temperature, owing to its elevation and the sur- 
rounding mountains. 

The soil is a gravelly loam, and is " deep, warm and rich" 
in many parts of the western division. 



INTRODUCTION. XIX 

The trees are the pine, hemlock, spruce, white cedar, and 
fir, among the soft or evergreen kinds, and prevail on the 
lowest grounds and higher slopes and summits of the hills ; 
and among the hard-wood species, the maple, beech, white 
and black ash, birch and elm on the intermediate surface. 
On the gentle swells between the lakes maple and beech 
abound. 

The climate is the same as the mountainous portions of 
New England. 

It is needless to enlarge upon the grandeur and picturesque 
beauty of the whole plateau. 

Settlements throughout the plateau, of any extent, there 
are none. Here and there, on the edges of the wilderness, 
are clusters of rough habitations, and along the lakes and 
streams is an occasional log cabin, or hunter's shanty. The 
summer tent of the sportsman alone, in addition, dots the 
boundless sweep of forest verdure. 

All the wild animals of our northern latitude, the panther, 
bear, wolf, and wild-cat, are here, with the moose, deer, fisher, 
sable, otter, mink, and muskrat. 

The moose is the rarest of all. Still, not a year passes but 
one is slain in the deep, dark fastnesses which have now 
become the animal's haunt. 

The eagle, the partridge, the loon, the duck are likewise 
found ; lake trout swarm in the broad waters, and speckled 
trout in the cold, clear spring-brooks and rapid streams. 

Eight or ten years ago, this wilderness hardly contained a 
hut or shanty, and was rarely invaded by visitors. But of 
[ate the number of sportsmen and explorers has gradually 
but greatly increased. The trout, however, are as abun- 
iant as ever, as are also the deer. But the latter have 
^rown more timid, and are less certainly found along their 
once familiar waters. The shout of the loon, too — that sym- 
bol of the wildness and loneliness of the scenes haunted 



XX INTRODUCTION. 

by this wildest and loneliest of birds — now rarely meets i 
the ear.* 

As suggested, the edges of this enormous wilderness are i 
thinly inhabited by hunters and trappers, who pierce its 
deepest recesses in their light boats, and act as guides to ' 
visitors in summer. 

The centre of the plateau comprises the region of the 
Saranac Lakes, the Racket River, from Racket Lake to 
Perciefield Falls, and a tract around Tupper's Lake. In it 
are found all the distinctive features of the plateau — broad 
and beautiful expanses of water ; the loveliest river of the 
forest ; the prettiest cascades ; one of the highest mountains, 
commanding the very grandest prospect of all ; and, save 
one, the sublimest gorge. The chief and almost the only 
home of the moose lies within it ; trout swarm in the myriad 
brooks ; and the deer are as plentiful as in any other spot. 

Into this centre, then — this wild heart of the wild northern 
forest — the reader is invited through the following pages. 

* For some of the principal routes into the wilderness, see Appendix. 



WOODS AND WATERS; 

OB, 

THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 



CHAPTER I. 



I!amp of the Indian Carrying-Place. — The Saranac Club and Guides. — A 
Bear. — Seeking Deer and finding Musquitoes. 

Sunset at the foot of the Upper Saranac ! A golden 
ight kindles a little clearing upon the southern border of 
:he glittering lake: one sweep of dark green wilderness 
covers the, remainder of the scene. 

A log hut stands in the foreground of the clearing. 
Behind, on a gentle slope, lies a patch of rye and buck- 
ivheat, the rye scarce hiding the charred stumps within it, 
md the silver blossom of the buckwheat lending bright 
contrast to the coal-black soil. 

Beyond, gleams a broad white space of calcined earth, 
Niih dark logs strewing it everywhere. Dead and living 
;rees stand here and there moodily apart. A rough zigzag 
;rack leads up the slope, and is lost in the close woods of 
the background. 

Down by the waterside, are two tents. The larger is 
)pen in front, displaying a layer of hemlock boughs upon 
ihe ground, and over them, blankets of grey, crimson and 
Durple. On the front tent-pole, hang powder-flasks and 
jhot-pouches : against a tall withered pine, lean fishing rods 
md rifles, while one of its skeleton limbs sustains the red 



WOODS AND WATERS I 



forequarters of a deer. From a stick in a stump, dangles al 
cluster of dead partridges, their chequered hues warm im 
the sun-glow. One has fallen, and points with arched neck; 
and hanging wings, as if for attack, at a black and whiter 
wood-duck, whose red bill is open to grasp, in appearance, 
the orange leg of a blue- winged teal, the leg drawn up: 
seemingly from dread. A slanting beam glitters on a pile 
of trout between a brace of fish baskets, and a score of 
the same glossy prey, strung upon a birchen twig, lie care-- 
lessly on the neighboring moss. 

Three hounds, white, with tawny spots, are nosing about, , 
occasionally bending on their haunches to scratch their ears^ 
and lick their paws, crouching to stare open-mouthed, 
through their fore-legs, at the fire and snap the flies, or 
curling themselves for a nap, to start up again and resume 
their roamings. 

Around a crackling fire of piled logs, four men are busy 
cooking. One, short but muscular, in a red hunting shirt, 
watches the roasting of a noble haunch of venison ; another, 
tall and lank, in a shirt of blue, is frying trout in a bob- 
handled sauce-pan, while a third, with a hare-lip, and in a t 
coarse blue check, is "toasting," on forked sticks, a brace 
of partridges spread out like fans. 

The fourth is a man about fifty, of brawny shape, bronzed 
skin, an air ever on the alert, and eyes that, gazing at any 
object, protrude in keen glances. All the fingers of his 
right hand, except the first, are twisted into the palm, and 
there is no sign of a thumb, yet the limb is almost as ready 
as its neighbor. 

He wears a purple check shirt, with pantaloons and felt 
hat, both of an earthen tint, and a woodknife sheathed in a 
belt of deerskin. 

His actions correspond with the quickness of his looks. 
Now he tries a pair of ducks, roasting on sticks like the 
partridges ; then stirs a layer of frying trout, ; then hurries 
to a large Indian cake, arching and darkening into a 
rich brown ; next turns a tawny wheat pancake, then stands 



8 

a moment with arms a-kimbo, glancing round the forest 
and over the lake. 

On the stump, a boy of sixteen is dressing a string of 
trout. 

A little removed from the fire, is another group ; two 
sitting on camp-stools, calmly smoking, one standing and 
loading his rifle, one reeling a fish-line, and one reclining 
on his elbow, with his shoulder against the pine-tree, gaz- 
ing upon the scene. 

Boats are resting their bows on the brown sandy margin, 
with their sterns buried in white water-lilies ; a heap of 
dead prone hemlocks is on the left, half-drowned in the 
rushy water ; and a couple of white cedars point horizon- 
tally, at the right of the scene, their jagged limbs resting on 
the bottom of the shallow, so as to lift their stiff, bristling 
foliage a little from the surface. 

The whole picture is soft and rich, as well as wild, 
steeped as it is in the mellow charm of the deepening sun- 
set. 

" Here we are at the Indian Carrying-Place, and only two 
deer," said the one with the rifle. " That's miserable luck 
enough. I hope next year we'll find out a wilder hunting- 
ground ; in Maine, for instance, where we can get not only 
as many deer as we want, but moose, gentlemen, moose !" 

" What a restless mortal you are, Bingham," said one of 
the two on camp-stools, of erect, slender shape and gentle- 
manly air, and whose sporting garb of coarse grey even 
had a neat, trim look. " We shall find deer enough, before 
we're through with our trip ; more than you'll shoot, I'll 
be bound ! Harvey," turning to the guide with the maimed 
hand, *' isn't it time for Mart and Will to be back ?" 

" Source yet, Mr. Gaylor," replied the old woodman, 
" they wont be likely to come afore they've got a deer. 
Sometimes though, it's mighty quick work gittin' one. 
Onst me and Phin," glancing at the young man with the 
hare-lip, " was at Flood wood Pond ketchin' fur. We " 

" Hark !" exclaimed the other of the two on camp-stools, 



4 WOODS AND waters; j 

as a faint sound stole out of the far distance. He was in 
form and garb much like his companion, and wore an air 
of decision and careless self-reliance. "Wasn't that the; 
hound, Harvey?" 

"Jess so, Mr. Eunnin' !" answered the latter. " Watch i 
has sung out twyst afore. This last time, 'twas jess this \ 
side o' the Gut. I shouldn't wonder ef the deer takes to 
the water there. There's a runway at the p'int, isn't there, 
Corey ?" 

"There is so," answered the one at the haunch. " One 
day, the fust week I come to this place, as I was gittin' out 
the logs for my cabin there," nodding toward the hut, "I 
heerd my dog Drive — ^hullo !" as a dull report echoed at 
the right, where a large island seemingly blocked the lake, 
with a smaller one in advance. " That gun come from 
'twixt Birch and Johnson Islands, and, I think, jest at the 
runway." 

" That's Will's rifle, and we'll see the boat soon," said 
Harvey, shading his eyes, and gazing in the direction of 
the islands. " By goll, I thought I see 't then, but I didn't. 
'Twas unly a loon making a flash. Besides, 'tisn't time yit." 

" And why the deuce isn't it time !" broke in Bing- 
ham. " Are we to wait here all night, after hearing the 
gun, before Mart and Will come, and then it may be with- 
out the deer? When the hound speaks, the occasion de- 
mands, as old Webster says, prompt action ; in other words, 
that I should be there ; eh, gentlemen ?" 

" There it is again !" said the one on the camp-stool, who 
had called attention to the cry of the hound. " Bing, you 
do keep up such a horrible noise about your shooting qua- 
lities that " 

" And who has a better right, I should like to know, 
Kalph Renning?" returned the other loudly, bringing down 
his rifle with a thump. " I only wish I had gone with 
Mart and Will, I would have shown you what shooting 
qualities are, that is, if Watch drives a deer, eh, Cort?" 

' Jess so, Mr. Bingham," answered the one at the fire, 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 5 

with the blue hunting shirt ; '' and talkin' o' deer, I kin take 
ye to a place after supper, not fur from here nuther, where 
you'll hev a shot at a deer in no time 't all, and mebby two 
or three on 'm." 

"Hurrah ! let us be going immediately," said the other, 
shouldering his rifle and moving off almost on a run. 
" Good-bye, gentlemen, I'll show you what shooting is ! 
Come, Cort, what are you waiting for? Which is the 
way ?" pausing over a prostrate log, with his legs astride, 
and throwing back an impatient look. 

"Hadn't you better get your supper first, Bing?" said 
Gaylor. 

" Not when a deer is in question," answered Bingham, 
" or two or three, as Cort says. For my part, I think we 
shall find half a dozen. Cort, why don't you come ?" 

" Because Cort is engaged," said Kenning. " I, as one 
member of the Club, object to his coming or going any- 
where till supper is ready." 

" Umph !" returned Bingham. " Well, if Cort can't 
come, Cort can tell me where to go, I suppose I" 

" It's over to the last o' them three p'ints back o' Green 
Island and right agin' Fanny Island," said Cort, launching 
his arm, without looking, towards the large left-hand island 
which, with Birch Island, closed the water prospect. 

" Hurrah ! Smith, if you can leave your tree there, and 
Coburn can stop fiddling at his fish-line, we three '11 take 
the boat over to the point," exclaimed Bingham. "I'll 
show you how to shoot a deer — eh, what's that in the water 
there?" 

" A bear, by golly !" exclaimed Harvey, seizing a rifle 
and hurrying towards one of the boats. " He's makin' torts 
Green Island!" 

" A bear !" echoed Corey, leaving his venison and 
snatching also a rifle. 

" A bear !" shouted Gaylor, Eenning and Coburn, the 
two first overturning their camp-stools, and the last throw- 
ing down his rod, and all springing to their weapons. 



6 WOODS AND WATERS; 

" A bear !" yelled Bingham, plying his long legs in mar- 
rellous strides towards the water. " Hurrah, you Cort, 
don't be all day in getting the boat ready ! Bears don't 
wait for people, a bit more than bucks. Only get me near 
enough, and if I don't plump that bear right through the 
head, or some other place, I'm a 'souced gurnet,' as old 
Falstaff says," and he tumbled into the boat, almost upset- 
ting the light, buoyant thing. 

In a few minutes, we all came up with the dark mon- 
ster, who glanced round upon us his little, wicked, black 
eyes snapping with fury. Cort, in the excitement of the 
moment, urged on by Bingham, struck his boat against a 
sunken log, in line with the beast, who was by this time 
but a few feet from Green Island. Bingham was standing 
at the bow, looking as wild as a muskrat in a trap. His 
rifle was at his cheek as the boat struck, but fate was 
against the enthusiastic sportsman. Unprepared for the 
shock, over he toppled, upon a plat of marshy grass, just 
as he was about to fire. He fell upon his knees and one 
hand ; fortunately, the rifle did not go off in the fall. 

The bear, meanwhile, with his glittering tusks clicking 
like gunlocks, and jaws dripping with foam, had made his 
way to the bank of the island. As he leaped upwards, a 
mingled sound from several rifles echoed, and his black 
carcass seemed to wither down among the bushes. 

"Good evenin', sir!" shouted Harvey, as he lauded. 
" 'hope you like bullet feed ! As for myself, I al'ys take 
whiskey. Here, Phin ! (who had come along in his boat), 
you kin carry the bear back to camp. This, Mr. Smith, is 
what I call rael old hunderd." 

In a few minutes, we had all returned. 

The sun had now sunk, and in the golden transparency 
of the first twilight, every object, from the leafy outline of 
the parallel shores to the minute tracery of the water- 
grasses, was pencilled more clear and sharp than even at 
noontide. The white lily blossoms looked like tiny cones 
of silver resting among their broad, heart-shaped leaves; f jr, 



like the birds, they fold themselves to slumber at the setting 
of the sun. 

The clouds burn in vivid hues, the woods are golden 
brown, and the water seems as if a mine of varied jewels 
had there turned liquid. 

Wrapt in the beauty of the scene, the Saranac Club hear 
an important call twice given before they heed it. It is 
" Supper ! gentlemen !" in the voice of Corey, cook and 
camp-master to the club. 

Just without the large tent, a table of forked poles has 
been thrown up, laid with bright, sweet flakes of spruce 
bark, and on it, smoke our wildwood viands. 

Banquets in palaces ! what are they, to the feast before 
us rovers of the greenwood, with the peerless scene in 
front and the radiant roof above 1 

The minutes do not vanish more rapidly than the fra- 
grant spoils of stream and forest, prepared by the simple 
skill of our guides, who, with vigilant eye to our every 
want, wait upon us. 

At length we fall back and the guides advance in turn. 
What heaps of crackling trout, what flakes of crusted veni- 
son, disappear ! If there is an object in nature more vora- 
cious than a Saranac guide, I have yet to know it. 

Suddenly Harvey rises with " There comes the boat ! jest 
this side o' Johnson Island !" 

A dark spot is relieved on the water in front of the 
smaller island in advance, at our right. 

'* They row so smart, I shouldn't wonder ef they'd got a 
deer," continued the old guide. 

" Deer are not so plenty in this region, that you can 
imagine all that row fast have them," said Bingham, a little 
querulously. 

Several minutes of silence followed. 

" I bleeve I see the horns of a buck over the sides of the 
boat !" exclaimed Harvey, screwing down his right eye. 

" Pho, pho ! a couple of dry sticks !" said Bingham. 

"Mart and Will feel well!" said Corey. "They're 



8 WOODS AND WATERS ; i 

tunin' their pipes like a couple of bullfrogs," as a lioarse : 
strain swept across the water. 

" Hev you got a deer ?" cried Harvey, at length. 

" Yes, and one more on top on't," answered a tall, power- 
ful man, paddling at the stern, in a red hunting shirt, and 
leather belt with the usual wood-knife. 

" Two deer did you say. Mart ?" exclaimed Bingham, 
rushing to the water's edge. 

" Shouldn't wonder !" said the one at the oars, in a pink- 
striped shirt and with the frame of a Hercules. 

" Why, Will, where on earth did you come across such 
luck?" asked Bingham, excited as if some extraordinary 
event had happened. 

" Oh, on the p'int, jest agin Birch Island, that is, one on 
'em. The other we got — that is, the fust one, 'long in the 
Gut, nigh the carry to Bartlett's," answered Will, drawling 
his words in a slight nasal accent. 

"Come, Cort, hurrah I now's the time for our deer! 
Come, Smith, 'can't wait a moment !" said Bingham, strid- 
ing into his boat so as almost again to upset it, followed, as 
it righted, by myself. 

" Take the stern. Smith ! give us a shove off, Harvey I 
If I don't have one deer before it's dark," grasping the oars, 
"I'm a donkey I" giving them an enormous sweep. 

" Don't go without me, Mr. Bingham I" exclaimed Cort, 
hurrying to the margin; " you can't find the spot without 
me!" 

" Sure enough ! I forgot all about you, Cort I" said Bing- 
ham, backing up. " But when we're in such a country for 
deer as this is, a man must be wide awake. Now, Cort, 
make her spin I" 

Cort entered the boat and took the oars, while Bingham 
seated himself at the bow, fronting it. 

" You show me a deer," continued the latter, examining 
the cap of his rifle, " or even a piece of one not bigger than 
the eye, and if I don't put a ball straight to the mark, call 
me a spooney, that's alll" 



9 

We were soon gliding round the first point. " We 
mus'n't make no noise now," whispered Cort, "we may 
come on a deer, the very fust thing." 

Bingham raised his rifle from his lap, in readiness. 

We turned the point. No living thing disturbed the 
solitude of the cove, except a black duck, which burst from 
the water and darted over Green Island to pur right. 

Bingham aimed. 

"You'll skeer all the deer, ef you shoot!" said Cort 
eagerly. 

" True !" returned Bingham, lowering his piece. " I didn't 
mean to shoot ; at least I don't think I did, only the duck 
rose so sudden. But, hurrah, Cort ! let's see what's behind 
the second point." 

We rounded this with no better fortune. The broad 
surface of lily -pads lay unbroken ; not a living shape was 
seen among the foliage of the banks. 

" Where have all the deer gone to, Cort !" said Bingham, 
in a snappish whisper. 

" I dunno !" answered honest Cort. " They ought to be 
here, by good rights. But less see what's round t'other p'int." 

We did see : sleepy trees and lazy lily -pads and — nothing 
else. 

Bingham began to fidget. 

" We'll land here, ef you say so," continued Cort, " and 
I'll go back in the woods a leetle. We'll hev a deer yit !" 
cheerfully. 

" I'll have one if I stay all night," said Bingham reso- 
lutely, as Cort brought the boat up to a dead tree jutting 
into the water and buried in moosehead-plants and rushes. 

A few steps over this rounded bridge landed us on a 
strip of black mould, stamped into hieroglyphics with the 
sharp delicate prints of deer, many quite fresh ; and cross- 
ing, we entered a little glade, shadowed by tall alders. 

" I shan't be gone long, it's gittin' so late," said Cort, fol- 
lowing a line of tracks leading from the glade up into the 
woods. 

1* 



10 WOODS AND WATERS ; 

" I'm in no hurry," returned Bingham, seating himself 
on a log, " I'd as lief stay here till pitch dark, that is, as long 
as I could see to shoot at all. Now, Smith, isn't it pleasant 

here?" 

The first grey which succeeds the gold after sun -setting, 
now trembled in the air. The colors of the water had lost 
their brilliancy ; a soft sheen like the tints of the wood- 
pigeon's neck, had followed. 

As I gazed, I felt some sensations more decided than 
pleasant. Still I said nothing. 

" How our friends will open their eyes when we bring 
a buck home, this evening !" said Bingham, after (for him) an 
extraordinary pause of silence. " We'll have a good time 
around the camp-fire, eh (with a slap on his cheek), Smith !" 

" Yes, when we bring the buck !" 

"When we bring ! why, of course (another slap), confound 
the musquitoes ! we shall bring — (threshing his arms wildly 
about) let me get a sight of one, that's all ! it '11 be good 
bite — night J/ mean to Mar — whew ! why the air is full of 
the devils ! I say. Smith, do the musquitoes trouble you 
so ? I do wish the deer would come along ! aha, wouldn't — 
I killed two this time ! (scraping his cheek, with an em- 
phasis.) What confounded little rascals they are ! They 
come (jumping up, breaking off a branch hastily and whip- 
ping the air fiercely) not in companies, but in battalions, 
regiments, divisions, whole armies, tribes, nations ; whizz, 
fizz, sizz, heavens ! I shall go crazy ! I hear them, I see 
them, the Lord knows I feel them — yes I fairly taste them ! 
There's two in my mouth, three in each ear, and hang me ! 
if there isn't one up my nose! I'm ofi*!" and he moved 
towards the boat. 

" But the deer, Bing, the deer !'^ 

" Hang the deer ! I couldn't shoot one, if he came. One 
might as well try to shoot with St. Vitus's Dance 1 You 
may stay if you choose, but I'm off ! or stop though ! Have 
you matches? we'll make a smudge!" 

" Not a stick ! " feeling in my pockets. 



OR, THE S ARAN ACS AND RACKET. 11 

" Oh, of course not I nobody has anything when it's 
wanted ! Cort, where are you ? (yelling at the top of his 
voice). Come back here and make a smudge ! I never saw 
the flies so thick, since the Lord made me !" 

"But the deer!" 

" Hang the deer, I say ! let's get rid of the flies 1 I 
wouldn't stay in this place five minutes longer, without a 
smudge, for all the deer at the Saranacs I" 

Just then, Cort made his appearance. 

" I followed the tracks to a stream jest back o' here," said 
he, " and there I lost 'm and was lookin' round fur more, 
when I heerd you sing out, Mr. Bingham ! Did you say you 
wanted a smudge ?" 

" There's nothing on earth I do want but that. I'd go 
back to camp quicker than lightning, if Renning and Gay lor 
wouldn't crack their jokes on me for a week. But hurry 
up the smudge, for conscience' sake !" 

Cort left and returned in a moment, with a piece of 
damp wood. 

" The flies is a leetle thick," said he, in his usual drawl- 
ing way. " I dont keer for the skeeters so much," tearing 
off strips of mouldy bark from the old log where we were 
seated, making a pile, with the wood and several green 
hemlock boughs, and lighting it with matches and a few 
dry splinters. " It's these leetle midgets that bite so bad. 
I remember one night, on the Eacket — there !" as the smoke 
streamed up. " You wont be troubled long with the crit- 
ters now ; they hate smoke as an owl does daylight." 

" Ah, this is comfortable !" said Bingham, bending over 
the smudge till his visage looked as blear as one of the 
witches in Macbeth. "Yes, the flies are all gone, Corty, 
and now bring on your deer !" 

But the deer would not be brought. So, after waiting an 
hour, we returned to the camp. 

The gray of the twilight was nOw yielding to the dark- 
ness of the night. The shores and islands grew gloomy 
and mysterious, and the water soon was one expanse of 



12 

starry purple. Comrades and guides had retired to the 
tents. Nothing disturbed the quiet of the summer night. 
The solitude was intense. The silence filled my heart. 
God seemed near in the solemn heavens. Far away was 
the world, with all its darkening sorrows and corroding 
cares. Here, I thought, would I abide and forget that 
world, that torturing, maddening world — here, close to 
the heart of Nature. The solitude would teach me peace, 
the quiet would yield me rest. Here would I abide, where 
the wilderness sweeps as sweeps the boundless sea. Sin 
blights not ; pride, hatred, envy and ambition never enter. 
Here, the soul, mingling with Nature, would soar towards 
God. May Man, then, never pollute this realm with his 
breath, may he never plant his foul heel on its bosom 
of beauty ! Free may its forests wave, teaching their stern, 
pure lessons of self-denial, self-reliance, endurance and 
courage ; of the religion which dwells with Nature, where 
the bared soul « 

" Like Moses, may espy, 
Even in a bush, the radiant Deity 1" 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 13 



CHAPTER 11. 



The start from home. — The Yankee's story of the taking of Ticonderoga. — 
The Ausable Valley. — The driver's opinion of Deacon Brown, — Scenery on 
the road. — A quotation under difficulties. — Harvey Moody. — Scenery at 
Baker's. 



How came we at the Indian Carrying-Place, in the wild 
forests of the Upper Saranac ? 

One day toward the last of July, I was debating whither 
I should go, to escape the heat. Now, the forest sang in the 
breezy tone of the pine, "Come I" Then the delicious rumble 
of the sea beach murmured, " Come !" and then the blended 
voices of some rural valley, the tinkle of sheep-bells, the 
rustle of wheatfields and the clinking of scythes uttered, 
" Come !" in most persuasive music. 

"Where shall I go?" 

" What do you mean ?" 

The voice was most familiar ; I looked up and there was 
Ralph Renning, a fellow-townsman and a lawyer of emi- 
nence, who had just entered. 

"I mean, where shall I go, to escape this dreadful 
weather?" 

" Go ? Why to the Saranac Lakes and Racket. Join 
our Saranac Club; Gaylor, Coburn, Bingham and myself. 
We start, to-morrow afternoon." 

"Enough!" as a vision of that noble region of lake, 
stream and forest, of which I had heard so much from my 
friend, glowed before me. "But stay, what must I take 
for the trip?" 

"Well, rifle, rod, powder, shot, hooks and lines, of course. 
Then a warm, wide blanket, to sleep in ; a felt hat ; your 



14 WOODS AND waters; 

winter clothing and overcoat. Better take a flannel bunt- 
ing-shirt, too. Then for the rain, take an india-rubber coat. 
Get a pair of large thick boots, reaching to the knee. As 
for stores, you will find them at Baker's, where we put up, 
before going into the woods. But I only dropped in to see 
how you were ; so good bye, and be at the Northern Depot 
at five." 

Accordingly, the next day, Renning, Coburn (Renning's 
partner) and myself left Albany in the cars, for Whitehall. 
At a neighboring station, we were joined by Gay lor and 
Bingham, the former a wealthy banker, and the latter a pro- 
minent lawyer ; and the Saranac Club was fully mustered. 

The beautiful evening saw us sailing down Lake Cham- 
plain in one of the fine steamers of its waters. All was 
sweet and peaceful; the boat skimmed rapidly over the 
star-dotted lake, and the night deepened in lovely quiet. 

At midnight, we reached the ruined fortress of Ticonde- 
roga. Darkly in view rose Mount Defiance, and my 
thoughts recurred to that July night, eighty years ago, 
when the columns of Burgoyne tore upward to the summit. 

A slight movement attracted my attention to a form near 
me, looking earnestly at the hill. 

"Ah," thought I, "here is one with whom I can inter- 
change sentiments." 

Apparently the figure thought so too, for it turned to me 
with 

" Ahem ! — I say — Mister I" 

*' Good evening, sir !" I replied, in my blandest manner, 
but not exactly liking his mode of salutation. 

"Good evenin' ter yeu. But I say, there must be a 
tarnal heap o' snakes up on that aire hill !" 

"Ah!" responded I, quite crestfallen, and observing the 
speaker more closely by the deck-lamps. 

He was a tall, lank genius, with a hat like a saucepan 
and a mouth like a cat-fish. His vest was of immense 
black and white stripes, across which ran a steel watch- 
chaiu like a ship's cable. 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 15 

" Yaas," continued lie, with a nasal drawl, " I kinder con- 
gate so, from the looks on't and what I've heern telh But 
[ say !" 

"Well!" 

" Them black things up there's old Ty." 

"Ah?" 

" Yaas. I've heern my old grand' ther tell all abaout the 
time that tarnal critter Allen tuk the fort. Grandpop got 
it from grandmom, who got it from old Aunty Strides, as 
we used to call her, who got it from Miss Fellows, who 
il'ays said she heerd it straight from Miss Bunker, the wife 
d> one o' Allen's men. All these ere old wimming-folks 
lived in the place where I was raised, up on Connecticut 
River. Waal, as I was a sayin', grand'ther used to tell 
that when old Allen, with his Green Mounting b'ys, got up 
to the fort, there wasn't nobody nowhere's araound, no 
haow it could be fixed. 'Twas very airly in the mornin'. 
Allen, whilse the b'ys was a goin' one way inter the fort, 
went t'other, right smack up to the door where the Cap'n 
who was boss o' the whull consarn ; Cap'n — let's me see — 
what war his name ! he war a married man, teu. Waal, I 
dunno as I kin call his name naow ; but 'twas where he 
done his sleepin'. Old Allen gin teu or mebby three 
smart bangs at the door, with the handle of his seword. 
Now, yer must kneow that though Allen war a tough old 
oritter, yit when he war a mind teu, he could be as per-lite 
as a dancin' mr.ster. 

" ' Up with yer here !' says he, ' yeu tarnation lazy critter, 
and s'render, or I'll give the whull consarn to Old Sanko !' 

" The door whips open quicker nor lightnin^, and there 
stands the Cap'n, and who should be there but his woman 
teu, in her night-cap ! 

"Old Allen tuk his cap off with one hand and riz his 
seword with t'other. 

" S'ze to the Cap'n, s'ze — but stop though — fust s'ze 
*Haow air yer?' s'ze, 'haow d'yer come on?' 

"'I'm all right!' says the Cap'n, for yer knows them 



16 WOODS AND WATERS; 

French fellers is jcest as per-lite and gin-teel as kin be. 
' Haow de yeu come on?' s'ze. 

"'Oh, stiddj by jerks,' says old Allen, 'but' s'ze — stop 
though, fust, s'ze, smilin' kinder to the woman, s'ze, 'I ax: 
yer pairdon, mom,' in the per-litest way' " (here the fellow 
swung his leg up in a boorish bow) " ' but,' s'ze, puttin' on ai 
farse look at the Cap'n, s'ze, 'ye must s'render,' s'ze, 'but ye: 
musn't be afeard, mom,' s'ze, fast-rate gin-teel agin, ' we don't 
make no war on the wimming-folks,' s'ze, 'but,' s'ze, to the 
Cap'n, farse agin, s'ze, 'ye must s'render!' 

" 'In whose name?' says the Cap'n, who but he ? as peart 
as a crow on a tree- top. 

" ' In the name,' s'ze, ' of the Great Jehovy,' s'ze, 'and the 
Cont'nental Con-gress,' s'ze, by hokey ! an' he got the fort, 
an' I'll be dod durned (slapping his thigh) ef he lost a 
single man !" 

On the strength of this very reliable account of Ethan 
Allen's noble capture of Ticonderoga, I retired, with my 
comrades, to rest. 

At daybreak, we were at Port Kent, where, with the 
morning star blazing on the water, we landed. 

Up the long winding hill we creaked in the post-coach, 
toward Keeseville, four miles distant, passing trees all 
wrenched in one direction — signs of a past tornado. Sud- 
denly, close by the road, a chasm opened, of sheer precipices 
and jutting crags, with leaning trees, and foam flashing 
through the downward gloom, while a low thunder rum- 
bled upon the ear. It was one of the famous chasms of the 
Ausable Falls — a wild picture, shaded, as it was, by the 
morning mist that deepened the spectral lights and frown- 
ing shadows. 1 

We breakfasted at the pretty and thriving village of Keese- 
ville, on trout and venison (earnest of the region before us), 
and then started, in a public conveyance, for Baker's Lake 
House, two miles this side of the Lower Saranac Lake and 
forty-six from Keeseville. 

The glow of a bright summer's morning was kindling the 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 17 

landscape as we launched upon our planked road, whicli 
struck off southeasterly. 

At our left, lay the beautiful Ausable valley, sloping up 
to wooded hills, showing points of wood in grassy bays ; 
meadows with the hay-wagon loading ; fields with cattle 
by the stream or under shades ; large barns nearly drowned 
in lakes of yellow grain ; and orchards of apple-trees con- 
torted as by some vegetable spasni, with the small, red 
farm-house blinking through the branches. 

In the centre of the scene was the Ausable river, flowing 
to Lake Champlain, in bends and reaches, rifts and stilly 
nooks, with tree and rock photographed upon it. 

In front, was a streak of mountain pinnacles on the sum- 
mer haze, giants of the enchanted realm we were to visit. 
Chief among them, pointed out by one of my comrades, was 
Whiteface. 

We passed the little village of Clintonville and were now 
bowling toward the larger village of Ausable Forks, along 
a level, fringed on the left by trees, where the wild grape 
twined in lower bowers of foliage, through which glanced 
the scenery of the river. 

" Hullo, Bill !" said our driver, to the Jehu of an advanc- 
ing wagon, which a sudden turn in the road disclosed, " is 
that you ? What's the news at the Forks ?" 

" Bad news enough !" answered Jehu, " the Morgan boss 
is dead I" 

"Dead!" exclaimed the other, pulling up suddenly and 
catching his breath, while his jaw fell, "the Morgan boss 
dead ? you don't say so ! Graul hang ! that's bad news, sure 
enough I He was a feelin' tip-top, t'other day ! When did 
he die, and what of?" 

"He died, this mornin'. Nobody knows what of! He 
hadn't been ailin' more'n a few hours. Yes, he's gone !" 

" Well, I swan ! I should think the whull village 'ud be 
in mournin'. The Morgan hoss dead ! Well, what kin be 
next ! But it can't be helped, ef we mourned here all day ! 
So good-bye, Bill I I s'pose there's nothin' else stirrin' !" 



18 

" No I good bye ! git up there ! but stop though, there is 
a leetle suthin' else ! Deacon Brown's dead !" 

" Whew, is he? But unlj think, the Morgan hoss dead! 
Who'd a thought it I sich a stepper too I Well (sighing), 
good-bye. Bill I" and the worthies parted. 

As we proceeded, bends of brooks and roads, breadths of 
rippling rye, white houses in green courtyards, and an 
occasional tavern, thrusting its gallows-shaped sign and 
large horse-trough into the traveller's eyes, met our 
glances. 

From the Ausable Forks (where the east and west 
branches of the Ausable river unite), the country grew 
wilder. The wilderness stood close to the road, or left stony 
lots and black stumps transparent in thin grain. Forest 
summits with gray cliffs looked down, and barren slopes 
stretched away, with pines stripped nearly to the top, seem- 
ing, on the horizon, as if they might scud off. 

We passed Black Brook, funereal with its furnace smoke : 
lines of dark charcoal arks drawn by mules and driven by 
glaring goblins ; board- roofed mud hovels for charcoal 
burning, puffing black smoke from their loop-holed sides, 
with the huts of the charcoal burners crouching by in 
stumpy patches. 

At Franklin Falls (where the plank road ends), we first 
encountered the Saranac river. This beautiful stream, flow- 
ing successively from the Upper, Round and Lower Saranac 
Lakes, unites after a score and a half of leagues, with Lake 
Champlain at Plattsburgh. 

We dined at the tavern, which, with the red store opposite, 
had found miraculously one spot free from rocks, on which 
to rear itself; and again we started. Still wilder grew the 
scenery. The close forest thrust out the sharp ends of logs 
cut asunder for the track, and shaped a groined roof above. 
Corduroy bridges spanning the frequent marshes; fireslashes, 
one chaos of charred logs and stumps; wild pastures of 
fern and bramble, burying prostrate trunks ; tumble-down 
log huts and new cabins in fresh-cleared lots, with patches of 



19 

potatoes, rye and buckwheat, showed themselves at every 
turn. 

The summits, sketched upon the morning mist, now stood 
boldly forth, mountains of purple. 

Old King Whiteface towered loftier than ever, and I 
registered a vow to dare his summit, at some future period 
of my trip. 

Suddenly, a pool near by was wrinkled as with a myriad 
waterflies ; a humming in the woods began and soon a sun- 
shower sparkled in the air. It melted in a few minutes, and 
then, almost without warning, a rain dashed upon us. We 
donned our india-rubbers, but supposing it a passing 
shower, agreed that it varied pleasantly the long ride, 
while Renning remarked it was a good breaking-in for 
the woods. 

A half hour dragged along, and the fierce rain still 
streamed. 

" I wish this breaking-in of yours, Renning, would break 
up," said Coburn, at length, querulously. 

Renning said nothing. 

At last the rain ceased, and soon the only reminder of 
t was a mist which Whiteface sent up ; the old Sachem, 
5moking his calumet, on the return of peace. 

Beyond the hamlet of Bloomingdale, we again encoun- 
tered the Saranac river, lost as soon as seen, at Franklin 
Falls. Here it was gliding eastward, full of sylvan beauty. 

A few miles farther and we encountered a corduroy 
'oad ; logs laid across the track, at a swampy portion. 

Bingham's tongue, ever since the rain, had been on a 
wallop. He was fond of quoting from his favorite authors 
md, as we struck the road, had fallen on Daniel Webster. 

"I tell you what, gentlemen, this is great! 'Europe,' 
says the grand old fellow, ' within the same period, has been 
igitated by a mighty' — bump, bump, bump, all the time ; 
;hese logs are awful — ' revolution, which, while it has been 
felt,' ugh ! what a cadunk ! — ' in the individual' — it's out 
)f the question, gentlemen, I can't talk — ' condition' " — 



20 WOODS AND 

(here we came to the most horrible piece of corduroy I 
ever saw, its huge logs lying or rather weltering, in a soil 
that shook like a jelly), " *■ and hap-pap-pap-iness of almum- 
mum-most every man has sha-sha-shaken to the cen-cen- 
tre the po-po-po-litical fabric' — look out for that log ! driver, 
can't you? it '11 roll over as sure as a gun — 'and d-d-d' — 
deuce take it — * dashed against one another thrones whoo- 
whoo- which had s-s-s-stood tr-tranquil for ages!' — thank 
heaven! boys, we're over that corduroy!" 

The gold tangle of sunset glittered in the forests, the 
damp air was full of fragrance, and the Saranac river gave 
flash after flash, inviting us on, as we came in sight of 
the Lake House. A sharp turn to the left, the trample of 
our horses' hoofs over a little bridge, a slight ascent, and we 
were at Baker's. 

'' Now we've come," said Eenning, after we had made 
ourselves comfortable in the little parlor of the inn, " the 
first question is, Where shall we go ?" 

" What think you of the Upper Saranac, or the St. Regis 
region ?" suggested Gaylor. 

" I should think Rawlins' and Floodwood Ponds and all 
that chain of waters west of the Upper Saranac would give 
us good hunting, if not fishing," said Bingham. 

*' I've a notion that a trip up the Racket to the falls, then 
down to our old camping spot on Tupper's Lake, would be 
pleasant, beside the fishing we should have," remarked 
Renning. " But suppose we send for Harvey Moody. I 
hear his voice pretty loud, in the bar-room ; he w^ill give us 
some good advice." 

In a few moments, Harvey made his appearance. He 
was the oldest of several brothers, all living in that vicinity 
and nearly all guides ; was the father of four or five sons, 
each a guide, and was an experienced one himself. He 
had been brought by his father to the region when a child, 
had always lived in it since, and, of course, was perfectly 
familiar with its localities. 

He was dressed in the sober colors I found it his custom 



OR, THE S ARAN ACS AND RACKET. 21 

o wear ; thus blending himself with the natural hues of 
lis haunts, so as not to startle his game — the hues of the 
)Ozy shore, where he set his mink-trap ; of the bark of the 
unway trees, where he lurked for the deer ; the log at the 
)Ool, where he stole to lure the trout ; the sand-banks and 
jravel-beds of the stream, where he prowled for the otter ; 
md the dawn and evening greys of the shallows, where 
le pried to waylay the fisher and the muskrat. 

" Harvey !" said Ealph, after that worthy had paid his 
'espects and expressed his joy at again seeing the four 
vith whom he was acquainted, " we are considering where 
ve shall go; whether to the Upper Saranac, to Eawlins' 
i*ond, or to Eacket Falls and then down to Tupper's Lake, 
^hat do you think ?" 

" Well, Mr. Eunnin ' 1" answered Harvey, in his some- 
vhat cracked voice, " as for Upper S'nac, I don't say there 
dn't as likely places in the world, but I do say there ain't 
10 likelier. I " 

"But how about the fishing there, Harvey ?" interrupted 
[lalph, who would not have cared if the waters of Paradise 
;hone over the next ridge, were no trout to be found there. 

" Well !" said Harvey, " I al'ays tell jest as 'tis. As fur 
ihe fishin,' 'tain't nothin' wuth speakin' on ; but the huntin' 
s rael old hunderd. One day, 'twas jest about sundown, 
[ and my son Will shot three bucks at Black Pond outlet, 
ibove Markham P'int, in less 'n no time. In the evenin', 
md 'twas a parfect inkstand of an evenin', too, as black as 
ny dog Watch's mouth, we went floatin' for deer, and jest 
svhere a cat-tail p'int jets out from a cedar swamp above 
:he Narrers, we come upon the goll darndest big buck " 

" That's the place !'' said Bingham, with his eyes bulging 
3ut like a hooked trout's (he was a keen hunter, but cared 
iittle for fishing) and starting to his feet. 

" Hold on !" said Penning, " don't go there to-night, 
Bing! We have time enough before us. You forget 
Rawlins' Pond and the waters along there ! What do you 
think of that region, Harvey ?" 



22 WOODS AND WATERS; 

" Well," answered Harvey, " Rawlins' is a rael tip-top 
place for liuntin', too. You kin a'most al'ays kill a ven'son 
there. But the fishin' there ain't of no 'count, that is, when i 
we talk about the Racket and Tupper's Lake; that is, 
there's good sport ketchin' whitefish at the old dam in the 
outlet o' Floodwood, which is next door to Rawlins, but 
you can't ketch 'em this time o' year, nohow. It's only in 
October. Still, ef you want to go to Rawl " 

" What do you think as to Racket Falls, before we go 
to the old spot, Tupper's Lake ?" said Renning. 

" Fust best !" returned Harvey, slapping his knee ; '' you 
can't git no better place than Racket Falls and all above 
there and then all the way down to Tupper's Lake. You 
know, Mr. Runnin' and Mr. Gaylor and Mr. Bingham and 
you, too, Mr. Coburn, all about the Racket, down from 
Stony Brook to Tupper's; but Racket Falls and them 
places up there, I bleeve you've never been to. Well, 
now, as fur fishin', you won't hev much till you git to 
Palmer's Brook — then there's the Falls — then Cold Brook 
— then Cold River. As for that Cold River, you may 
bleeve there's trout there, and some on 'em fall grown, too. 
And as for huntin', Mr. Bingham, the deer's around, up 
about them slews. It's rael inkstand there with 'em. 
There's Stony Slew and Loon Slew and Moose Slew," 
counting on his fingers, " below the Falls, and Moose 
Creek, above. Ef there ain't the places fur night huntin', 
then there ain't none ; and ef you, Mr. Bingham, could git 
only two or three of them big bucks I've seen at Moose 
Slew alone, you might hold up your head like a school- 
mam. It's all sorts of a nice place, I " 

" Suppose we say Racket Falls, and then down the 
Racket to Tupper's Lake I" said Bingham, transported by 
Harvey's suggestions of night-hunting. 

" Agreed !" said we all, and the thing was settled. 

Obeying now a summons from our host, whose portly 
form appeared at the parlor door, we ranged ourselves at 
the supper- table, which was abundantly supplied with the 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 23 

two staple luxuries of the woods, trout and venison. Piles 
of the delicious fish, browned and diffusing a most appe- 
tising fragrance, filled the space between a venison steak 
and an immense boiled lake-trout, lapped in golden cream. 
The tea and coffee also mantled in cream, whose rich clots 
looked like bits of golden ingots, while the white, crum- 
bling biscuits almost melted on the tongue. 

In answer to our queries, our host informed us that the 
trout (except the large one caught in the Lower Saranac) 
came from Eogers' Brook, and the venison from Colby 
Pond, both in the vicinity. 

After supper, we strolled out in the twilight, to enjoy 
our surroundings. The Lake House was a low building, 
of two stories, partly white and partly in the wood's 
natural weather-stained hues, with a projecting gable. A 
white fence inclosed a little grassy courtyard. The borders 
of this space had once been devoted to flowers, but all 
traces were now being fast hidden by the grass. The 
Saranac river wound from the forests at the west (although 
its general course was from the south), and, broken into a 
small rapid, flowed northeasterly a short distance from the 
inn. A little wooden bridge spanned the rapid. 

Eough upland fields, but lately wrested from the forest, 
lay around. The narrow river-flat northeast, however, was 
smooth in grass. Several buildings were scattered along 
the Keeseville road, with one or two not yet finished. 

The Lake House was at the intersection of two roads ; 
the Keeseville, which swept round at the foot of the build- 
ing and wound to the Lower Saranac Lake ;> and the 
Elizabethtown, which ran hence to a village of that name 
and to Westport on Lake Champlain. 

In the rear, or east of the tavern, a wild summit, known 
as Baker's Peak, heaved its dark, leafy cone against the 
sky. Mackenzie's Pond Mountain, cloven into two points 
hke the antlers of a deer, printed the horizon next in that 
quarter, with other crests surging away to the south and 
east. 



24 WOODS AND WATERS; 

An irregular line of the wild forest was traced around 
the whole horizon. 

The scene was enchanting with the soft semi-light, the 
rose-leaf clouds, the crimson west, the darkening fields,,! 
the blackening woods and the purpling mountains. Blended I 
with the dreamy twitter from the shadowy trees, were the 
rush of the rapids and the distant cry of a huge bird — the 
black eagle of the woods — winging his stately way high 
overhead, toward the Lower Saranac. 

We ascended the acclivity of the Elizabethtown road 
and made our way to the right, up a green hill, where 
was a flag-staff. The timid stars were stealing into the 
heavens. Deepest quiet prevailed, broken only by an 
occasional bay from a hound, at the cabin of Moody below. 

My comrades descended the hill, but I lingered behind. 
I lingered and gazed and dreamed. The scene was so 
soothing, the tranquillity so holy ! Nature seemed with 
folded hands to pray. 



25 



CHAPTEE III. 

'he Saranac Boats. — The Buckboard.— Harvey Kills a Deer.— The Song of 

Glencoe. 

When I descended from my room, the next morning, 
lay had just planted his golden sandals on the summit of 
taker's Peak. The sky was a lapis lazuli ; the atmosphere 
)land and cool. Early as was the hour, the tent intended 
or our trip was already pitched between the tavern and 
he barn, and round it our guides had gathered. These 
vere Harvey Moody, with Cortez and Martin his brothers, 
Lud Phineas and William his sons. 

Beside the barn door, on which sprawled a dried wolf- 
;kin, two bear cubs were confined in a long, wooden cage. 
3ne was pacing to and fro, with quick startling motions, 
low and then thrusting his nose and paw through the bars 
n front; the other, lazily winking, was crouched on a 
jross-bar midway the height. While I was feeding them 
;vith blueberries from an adjoining field, Harvey saun- 
tered up. 

*' Good mornin', good mornin' !" said he, in a hearty tone, 
* lookin' at the cubs and feedin' on 'm I see, Mr. Smith, 
rhey were got jest out here on Keene Mountain, and the 
jkin o£the old bear's in the loft there," pointing to a gable 
Duilding, newly erected for a corner store. " I didn't git these 
3re, but I took two from a stump, last winter, at the lower 
Lake. The old 'un I shot, jest as he poked his head up. 
One o' the cubs died, but the other Pve got chained up by 
my shop." 

" You've killed bears enough in your lifetime, I suppose, 
Harvey?" 

2 



26 WOODS AND WATERS; 

" Yes, and painters too. I was follerin' up a saple line 
onst, from Hoel's Pond a leetle north o' the Upper S'nac to 
the St. Regis waters, and jest by Catamount Mountain, I 
come crost the all-iiredest big painter" — 

" Good morning, Smith," said Renning, thrusting his head 
from his chamber window. " Good morning, Harvey I are 
the guides all ready for Rogers' Brook ?" 

" All ready, Mr. Runnin'," answered Harvey, " I've hed 
the.b'ys here sin' afore sunrise, and the boats is in the 
pond by Cort's." 

We had selected our guides, the evening before; Renning, 
Gaylor, Bingham and Coburn, choosing respectively Will, 
Mart, Cort and Phin, and I taking Harvey. 

Renning and Gaylor were to try the trout at Rogers' 
Brook, and Bingham and Coburn to drive for deer at 
Colby's Pond. My choice was to wander around Baker's. 

I was impressed, the more I saw of Harvey, with his skill 
as hunter and guide, and at a later day, as trapper. He 
not only thoroughly understood the region and the habits 
of its every bird, fish and animal, but was fall of resources 
in his vocations. As guide, he was entirely reliable and 
always ready. He handled rifle, rod and oar with equal 
skill, and taught his woodcraft with a cheerful patience. 
His senses were wonderfully acute and continually alive. 
Not a sight or sound of the woods or waters escaped him. 

As hunter, trapper and fisherman, he laid the whole 
forest under tribute. In the swamp, he opened the jaws of 
his wolf- trap ; through leagues on leagues of woods, he blazed 
his sable line ; on the borders of the waters, he built his 
deadfall for the mink ; over the entire wilderness, he let 
slip his hound for the deer, while his fatal hook knew the 
buoy spots of every lake, and the mouths, eddies and rapids 
of every stream. 

Renning and Gaylor started with their two guides, all 
fully equipped ; and the morning was so beautiful, I deter- 
mined to accompany them with Harvey, to their point of 
embarkation for the Brook. 



27 

We travelled up tlie Elizabethtown road, passing Har- 
vey's cabin (half log, half clapboard) and his little log 
smithy in the corner of a small green space at the side of 
the hut. 

We passed also the red farm house of Harvey's father 
and turned at the right into a grassy road, which soon 
brought us to the Saranac Eiver. A dam at Harrietstown 
(a cluster of rough dwellings on the road between Baker's 
and the Lower Saranac) sets the waters broadly back for 
miles, and the overflow had killed the trees and thickets that 
crowded the former borders. A labyrinth of dead trees, 
prostrate trunks and withered branches, obstructed the 
waters, leaving but a narrow channel, midway. The live 
forest framed in the whole. 

Drawn half way up the green bank, near a log hut, 
were four Saranac boats. These boats are dark-colored, 
slender as a pike, buoyant as a cork, made gracefully of 
thin pine, with knees of fir, their weight from ninety to one 
hundred and twenty pounds. Each has two oars on iron 
pins, a paddle, a neck-yoke for the " carries ;" is made for 
three (it can hold five), and though so small and lightly 
built, will live in the roughest swells. 

Renning and Gaylor embarked and glided rapidly and 
smoothly through the channel, Will and Mart handling 
their oars like playthings. 

Harvey and I returned to Baker's. We reached it just 
as the buckboard (a board on four wheels with one seat) 
drove up for Bingham and Coburn, who were on their way 
to Colby Pond. 

It was brought by a scarecrow of a boy, all broken out 
into tatters. The nag was a tottering mass of ribs and 
knuckle-bones with a skin drawn tightly over, and it 
seemed to have a constant inclination to fall on its nose. 

Bingham borrowed a hickory goad and jumped on the 
buckboard with Coburn, and at last, between the two and 
amid the grins of the tavern loungers, old Mortality was 
punched and jerked into a funereal jog. Down the hill he 



28 WOODS AND waters; 

shambled, his legs tangling and untangling in the most 
mysterious manner. But the moment he struck the level 
(I followed to see the sport), he subsided into his constitu- 
tional crawl. The woods echoed to Bingham's goad, but 
Bones only crinkled his hide, without budging a step the 
faster. I left them as they began the hill, with Bingham 
hallooing at the top of his voice, and boring the goad as if 
it were a gimlet, into the old nag's crupper 

After the buckboard had disappeared, Harvey and I 
strolled along the lane behind the barn, and he was in the 
middle of a "jack-hunt on Racket Pond oust, nigh the mouth 
of Wolf Brook," when he interrupted himself with "Hark! 
there's a hound runnin' a deer. It sounds like Watch ; hark !" 

Although I listened intently, I heard nothing but the 
rush of the rapids under the bridge above. 

" It's Watch, by goll !" resumed Harvey. " He's bin 
missin' ever sin' yesterday. I was huntin' out on the Plains 
by Ray Brook, when he started a deer that run torts the 
Low^er S'nac. He must a started another. There he goes 
agin ! Goll, don't he sing !" and a yelp or two, followed 
by a burst of cries, came to my ear. 

The sounds then retreated, floating fitfully here and there, 
lower, then louder, then lower again, and dwindling to a 
dreamy echo, then swelling once more until the tone illus- 
trated the " wandering voice " of Wordsworth. At length, 
a peal sounded, like a clarion's. 

" Here comes the deer, and a buck in the bargain ; here, 
Mr. Smith, here ! he's comin' this way !" exclaimed 
Harvey, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and running 
before me. " I'll hev a shot afore he reaches the river." 

The deer had broke from the forest at the base of the 
Peak, and was now darting towards the stream. He cleared 
the stumpy field next the Peak and was crossing the river- 
flat, when Harvey fired. The buck gave one bound and 
fell headlong. 

Harvey rushed to the spot and cut the animal's throat 
with his woodknife. 



29 

" Here's Watch !" said he, as a brindled hound came 
leaping over the field toward him. 

" Good feller, good pup !" patting the head of the hound; 
*' What did ye do with the deer yisterday, eh I" while the 
dog rubbed against him, whimpering, and twisting his lithe 
body with delight. 

" Well," said Bingham, stretching his long legs on the 
chintz sofa of the inner parlor, just after tea, while we all 
sat round, " I'm about sick of this business, already. 
Here Coburn and I have been all day watching at Colby 
Pond and going over the worst road to get there that 
ever afflicted mortal man, all rocks and corduroy, and such 
a beast too, to take us ! — why I've drilled so many holes 
with the gad into his leather carcass, that it looks like a 
sieve ; — but as I was saying ; here we've been watching all 
day for a shot, and not a shot do we get ; not even a yelp 
to tell that one was wanted. And here Harvey Moody 
kills a deer right under Smith's nose, without stirring from 
Baker's. And here Renning and Gaylor come back from 
Rogers' Brook, and they too have a deer, without mention- 
ing trout enough to break down that confounded tetering 
buckboard of ours, and without even leaving their boats. 
Well, so goes the world, Coburn, and suppose we take a 
drink. Ah, this liquor is good, at all events ! and I say, 
boys, if I had got a shot, wouldn't I have given the deer fits?" 

" That's so much a matter of course, Bing," said Gaylor, 
" there's no use of talking any longer about it. But here's 
Will Moody coming from the bar-room. Come in. Will, 
and sing us Glencoe." 

Will entered, and after a few bashful excuses, struck up 
in a powerful but rather nasal tone, the following ballad, 
which I have translated into English from the Saranao 
vernacular. 

' The young leaves of May had just feathered the trees, 
And the heatherbell's fragrance was fiUing the breeze ; 
I went, as of old, to see day dipping low, 
On the wild, gloomy grandeur of rocky Glencoe. 



30 



' The bank of a burnie beside me that run, 
Displayed a bright hissie, as bright as the sun ; 
All flowing in tartans, a lass long ago 
That loved young Macdonald, tlie Pride of Glencoe. 

* With heart beating wildly, I slowly drew nigh, 
The lily and rose in her cheek seemed to vie ; 
I asked in soft tones where her thought was to go, 
And she answered, I'm straying to gaze at Glencoe I 

' Said I, lovely lassie, thy look and thy smile, 
My pathway for ever with joy can beguile I 
If thou thy affections on me wilt bestow, 
I'll bless the glad hour we met at Glencoe. 

' Said she, My affections no more can I claim ; 
I once had a true love, Macdonald his name ; 
He went to the wars, alas ! long years ago, 
And I live but to see him once more at Glencoe. 

' It may be Macdonald thou'lt never more see. 
That he loves some far lassie more fondly than thee, 
That he thinks not of tartans so simple in flow. 
But of jewels that shine in disdain of Glencoe. 

* False man ! my Macdonald true-hearted will prove : 
The valiant in battle are faithful in love I 

And soon will the Spaniards in dust be laid low, 
And in joy will my true love return to Glencoe. 

* So loyal I found her, I pulled out a glove 
She gave me at parting, her token of love ; 
She hung on my bosom her tears all aflow, 
Oh, art thou Macdonald returned to Glencoe I 

* Yes, Nannie, dear Nannie, thy sorrows are o'er I 
I come from the battles to wander no more I 
The rude winds of war at a distance may blow. 
And fond and contented, we'll dwell at Glencoe.' 



i 



i 



OB, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 31 



CHAPTER lY. 

The Lower Saranac Lake. — The Eagle. — Mount Tahawus. — The Loon. — The 
GruU. — Moose Mountain. — Cove Hill. — Mount Seward. — Whiteface. 

The next morning arose warm and threatening rain. 
Breakfast over, my four comrades and myself, with rifles, 
rods, blankets, overcoats and carpet-bags (holding as few 
articles as possible), left in Baker's wagon for the Lower 
Saranac Lake, to start thence upon our trip. 

Up and down the winding road we merrily went, with 
the picturesque bends of the Saranac river at our right. 
One view particularly pleased us, soon after our departure 
from the Lake House : a graceful curve of the stream, lost 
at either end in woods, with one dry jagged tree slanting 
athwart, the only sign of decay amid the overflowing life. 

We crossed the dam bridling the river at Harrietstown, 
by a bridge, and leaving the hamlet on our left, ascended 
a hill, and, with log-cabins and rough-clearings breaking 
the wilderness at either hand, soon saw the glancing blue 
of the lake in the background of the road. 

We found our five boats in waiting, with as many 
guides ; Corey, our cook and campman, meeting us here 
from the Indian Carrying-Place, with his son (little Jess, 
a boy of sixteen) as assistant, and two boats for the camp 
equipage and stores. 

There was a party of sportsmen at Martin's (a tavern at 
our point of embarkation much frequented by visitors of 
the region), bound for Blue Mountain Lake. They were 
lolling on the green slope before the house and seated on 
the logs scattered around. The forest makes friends of all, 
and soon we were chatting and joking together like old 



32 WOODS AND waters; 

acquaintances, exchanging little gifls, discussing plans andlj 
relating our adventures. 

"You seem to want to know about the region, Mr. .1 
Smith," said Harvey to me, after he had placed his boat;' 
(the httle Bluebird) in complete readiness ; "So I'll tell ye : 
that the Lower S'nac p'ints southwest and is six miles 
long by two wide. Then comes the S'nac Eiver, three 
miles inter Bound Lake, which is two miles long by that 
broad, and lays about west. Then a mile o' the river 
agin to Bartlett's, where there's rapids and a carry inter 
the Upper S'nac, which p'ints north agin. So you see the 
three lakes makes a horseshoe, with the two eends p'intin' 
one north and t' other tol'able nigh so." 

" What are those islands south there named, Harvey?" 

" Them two little ones over this spread o' water is the 
Two Sisters. On the left is Eagle Island, the largest 
island in the lake, three-quarters of a mile long. Burnt 
Island is on the right, and then comes the main shore. 
That fur mountain over Eagle Island, is Mount Morris, or 
Tupper's Lake Mountain, that we'll see clusser afore the 
trip's over. That peak north, is Baker's Peak. This is a 
great country fur mountains, and waters too. The lakes 
and ponds is like spots on a fa'n, and the streams is as 
thick as streaks on the moose-missee wood. As fur the 
woods, all in the State is packed away in this 'ere region, 
with now and then a clearin', like a bug on a chip floatin' 
in the S'nac here." 

In a few minutes we were underway ; each at the stern 
of his boat, leaning against the backboard, and the guide 
near the middle, plying smoothly and rapidly his oars. 

Harvey had brought Watch with him, and he lay coiled 
at the Bluebird's bow. Sport, the other hound, had been 
consigned to the care of Will. Drive and the Pup com- 
pleted the pack. 

Onward the five boats swept toward the Two Sisters, 
with the store boats at the left crank and tottering under 
their loads. 






OR, THE SARANACS AKD RACKET. Sd 

On eitlier side, was one grand sweep of mountain woods, 
swelling from the very verge of the water, which was 
scattered with manifold islands. Here and there trees, 
withered and scorched, strewed their gray and dull red tints, 
but they were hardly discoverable amid the universal 
green. 

Heavy clouds with bright edges, filled the sky. The 
whole scene was fitful with brights and darks. Sometimes 
a beam lighted sudden and startling, on the top of a 
shadowed mountain, overflowing it with splendor. A new 
shadow then darted from the base, peeling off the light 
until the whole mass frowned again in gloom. 

So with the lake. Now it showed one sullen hue; a 
gleam would then break forth, widening till dazzling 
diamonds danced upon the view, followed by a leaden tint, 
which closed like an enormous lid over its broad, sparkling 
eye. 

Growls of thunder were echoing all around the scene, 
as if the mountains gave vent to fitful anger. 

" Mackenzie's Pond Mountain, over there," said Harvey, 
"has his umb'rell up to-day," noddiag to the east, 
where a dense mist touched the cloven crest. " It'll be a 
kind of on-the-fence day, nuther much rain nor shine, 
but a muxed up consarn, and mebby some wind. Well, 
in any blow that is reasonable, and some that might 
be unreasonable, this little Bluebird o' mine '11 live 
about as well (jerking his old hat in the most know- 
ing manner, then spitting on his hand and sweeping 
wide his oars) as a loon, whether it's on Upper S'nac 
or Eound Lake, and them two's about the wust in this 
region." 

A breeze now crisped the lake, freshening till we danced 
onward over whitening swells. I bared my head to the 
wind ; I plunged my arm in the waves. Onward, good 
Harvey! swifter! let your oars play more merrily ! How 
they dash, how they flash ! onward, old fellow ! on, old 
guide of the Saranacs I 

2* 



34 WOODS AND WATERS; 

On, on o'er the waters ! song dwells in their sound, 
Brave life in their tumult, and bliss in their bound 1 
Roam thou where the liglit wind makes love to the tree, 
But a way o'er the wild rolling waters for me 1 

Oh the eagle, he darts through his mighty domain 1 
Oh the steed, with what triumph he tramples the plain I 
But the bark, the bold bark, speeds as fleet and as free I 
Then a way o'er the wild rolling waters for me 1 

Men say there is sorrow and darkness in life, 
That the heart, it grows weary and worn in the strife ; 
But the bark has no heart-break ; all cares from it flee ; 
Then a way o'er the wild rolling waters for me 1 

Bound onWard, bold bark 1 leave the tame earth behind ! 
Thy path is the white wave, thy breath is the wind 1 
Dash whiter thou white wave 1 wind heighten thy glee! 
Ho 1 a way o'er the wild rolling waters for me 1 

At this glowing moment, when Pegasus had completely 
run off with me from the present scene and I was career- 
ing over the magnificent ocean, a stealthy dash of rain 
from Eagle Island extinguished my enthusiasm and wet 
me pretty thoroughly before I could don my India-rubber. 

I could see Harvey grin as I clutched my coat ; but I 
wrapped myself in my philosophy as well as my garment, 
and 

•' Did what they do in Spain- 
Let it rain." 

The pelted lake leaped into convulsions of foam, and 
through the mist the Two Sisters looked spectral. 

The rain at length ceased, so suddenly, it seemed as if'a 
wet curtain had in a twinkling been lifted ; but mist 
still hung upon us. 

" I had a rainy time on't, one time, in Lonesome Pond 
Bay, over there to the east," said Harvey, *' watching for 
deer. Old Spot — he's dead now — was out, and as I hadn't 
heerd him for some time, I consated I'd fish. I ketched 
four big lake trout and bimeby I heerd Spot. How he 
did yelp I Jest as I drawed sight, for I knowed suthin' was 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 35 

a-comin', what should bust out of a lorrel swamp but an 
onmassifull big painter ! I fired, but only wounded 'im. 
He sprung into a watermaple and sot openin' his green 
eyes on me as farse as a milishy cap'n on trainin' day. He 
was jest drawin' up for a jump, when I fired t'other barr'l 
right at his eye, and he tumbled as dead as — well, I won't 
say divil, 'case that's swearin' — but as dead as — well, I 
dunno — but he was as dead as — w-a-a-1, dead as kin be. 
I've got his skin now in my shanty to hum. But look 
at that eagle! He jest rose from Otter Island! How 
cluss he flies !" 

As he spoke, a mass shot by so near, I caught the flash 
of a wild eye-ball. On the mass darted, into a range of 
stronger light. I saw his silver crest, his stately motion ; 
he, the dark chieftain of the crag, swift of wing as the 
blast and keen of sight as the sunbeam ! 

" There he lights on Saple Island !" continued Harvey. 
" I kinder consate I'll hev a chance at 'im." 

Swaying the head of a fir-tree downward, the eagle rose 
again and throned himself on the top of a tall hemlock, 
standing high and proud on his yellow-pillared feet. He 
cast his fierce eye down as we drew near, seeming to regard 
us with profound disdain and looking " every inch a king." 

Harvey raised the rifle; but as he did so, the eagle 
launched forth again his black shape ; but the rifle cracked, 
and the majestic bird swooped and fell, with a broken 
wing, into the lake. Watch leaped from the boat and in 
an instant was upon him. The wild orbs of the eagle 
flashed gleam upon gleam, as he darted his terrible beak 
at the eyes of the hound and struck with his sinewy claws 
and one massive wing, while Watch, eluding his enemy 
with quick motions, made at him rapid dashes of attack. 
The water foamed with the strife, almost concealing at 
times the combatants in a showery veil. Gallantly did the 
superb creature battle for his life; but his bristling neck 
was at last grasped by the hound, wlio shook him, as it 
were in triumph. In a few moments, the streaming blood 



36 

and relaxed frame of the victim showed that the strife was 
ended. 

Harvey pulled the hound and his prey into the boat, 
patting the back of the former proudly and lovingly, while 
I looked with pity on the latter. There he lay, the con- 
queror of the clouds, so lately careering in the glory of his 
strength, mangled, at my feet, and weltering like a warrior 
in his blood. Haughty and dauntless to the end, he fas- 
tened his grand, tawny eye upon me, flashing even through 
the mists of death, until he shook in his last tremor. 

Harvey, however, was not troubled with any sentimen- 
talities about the bird. 

" They're a wild, cruel sort o' critter," said he, " them 
eagles, and boss it over the whull wing kind in the woods. 
They've bin known to ketch fa'ns when they was sleepin', 
and pick their eyes out as quick as a wink. They're great 
robbers, too. When a fish hawk has took a fish, an eagle 
'11 bust, as 'twere, right out o' the air, pounce on the hawk, 
kill him and steal the fish. Now that hawk had as good 
a right to that fish as I hev to any trout I ketch, and I 
should like to see a man take away my trout. He'd stand 
a mighty good chance to feel what's in my rifle, that's all. 
I don't hev no kind of pity for the greedy rascals, when 
they are killed. I'll skin 'im fur ye, when we git to the 
Injin Carry, and you kin git him stuffed and show folks 
what kind o' critters comes from the S'nac country. But 
you was askin' me t'other day about Mount Tawwus, 
or Mount Maircy as some people calls it, and why they 
should I dunno ; it's only the name of a big man, it don't 
mean nothin' ; but Mount Tawwus means a good deal, it 
means— lets me see— it's suthin' about split, but whether it's 
case it goes full split up into the clouds, or it splits folks 
most in two straddlin' up 't, I can't say now— rowin' 
kinder muxes up things in my head. You kin jest git a 
squmt," resting on his oars and pointing eastward ; then 
dipping an old battered, tin coffee-pot into the lake and 
drinking from the half-flattened spout. 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 37 

A gauzy summit on a blue background of cloud and 
kindled by a stray glance of the sun, met my gaze, seeming, 
every moment, as if it would melt away. Was that dreamy 
shape, tender as memory and bright as hope, the grim god 
that piles one on another his defiant crags, and tosses with 
scorn the thunderbolt from his breast ? There it shone in 
almost transparent beauty, more like a fairy painting than a 
terrific mountain whose crest pierced the clouds and froze 
in the cold of the sunshine. 

A point in front now concealed the other boats, and we 
entered a channel between two islands. 

The water is smooth ; the trees are quiet in the lull of 
the wind ; the solitude is complete. " The gentleness of 
heaven is on the " — hey ! what the deuce is that ? 

A sound burst upon me, making me jump in my seat. It 
was like the laugh of a maniac ; more — the jeering laugh of 
a demon over a fallen victim — a bitter, taunting laugh and 
yell mingled. It came from the opposite side of the island, 
to the left. 

I looked at Harvey with wonder. 

Harvey grinned. 

'' Wait a little, Mr. Smith, till we pass Buck Island here I 
There ! d'ye see that black speck ?" 

" Why, yes ; but you don't mean to say the infernal 
sound I heard, came from that speck ?" 

" Wait !" 

Again the demoniac laugh. It sounded evidently from 
the speck. It echoed and re-echoed over the lake, now 
from the neighboring point and now from the little island 
in our rear, until the air seemed filled with a diabolical 
gabble. 

" Hoo, hoo ! yes, you may hoo, hoo, there ; but look out ! 
don't be sassen us too much !" said Harvey. 

" But what the plague is this hoo-hoo thing of yours, 
Harvey ? I never before heard such a sound, out of Bed- 
lam 1" 

" That's a loon, Mr. Smith I" 



88 WOODS AND waters; 

^' A loon!" 

*' Yes, and he's the sassiest thing- 



"Well, Harvey!" said I, "I've often heard the saying, 
* crazy as a loon,' but I never realized the truth of it before. 
His cry is horrible !" 

"Yes, siree! iightin' torn cats and owls stirred up by 
jacklights aint nothin' to a loon when he's a mind to holler, 
say in' nothin' of a couple on 'em. There he goes agin' 
ho-ooooooo-ah-ho-oooooooo-ah-hoooooo-eee-e-e. Don't you 
be a sassen us all the time ! I've killed loons afore I ever 
see you, ^^ou sassy tj^ke! He's comin' up quite cluss!" as 
a swell (we were now out upon the lake again) lifted him 
so that I could see, against a background of island, his 
glancing shape of black and white. 

Harvey lifted his rifle. 

"I bleeve I'll — there I consated he'd pop under, the 
sassy villyan !" 

And pop under he did. Lightning could hardly have 
been quicker. Minutes elapsed. 

"Why, where has he gone, Harvey?" 

"He'll be up in a minute. There he comes!" 

Sure enough, and reappearing as suddenly as he va- 
nished ; so near too that I could see his sharp beak and 
even the white strips round his dark, graceful neck. But 
he had hardly risen, before he gave a quick, frightened 
cry, and once more shot downward. Minutes again passed 
and I saw the black speck of his head a quarter of a mile 
away, floating near an island. 

" There was a feller, ho ! ho ! ho !" said Harvey, " from 
York; he was out with me, one time, on Tupper's Lake, and 
a loon hollered out and then ducked under and staid — 
w-e-1-1, I should say ten minutes ; and he wanted to know, 
ho! ho! ho! ef 't'adn't got so feared at us 't'ad drownded 
itself. I thought I should* split ; but see that gull! there, 
on that little bare rock jest afore Schooner Island, where 
them two trees stands up." 

There it stood, relieved against the leaden hue of a ledge 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 39 

upon the island, as if formed from white water lilies, and 
jSlling entirely its little pedestal. 

" I bleeve I must make short work of that critter, at any 
rate. I'm gettin' rayther hungry for a shot !" said the old 
hunter, aiming his rifle. 

" Don't shoot that bright thing, Harvey I" 

"Too late, Mr. Smith!" crack went the rifle, and the 
gull — flew awa}'. 

Yes, positively. I looked at Harvey, and Harvey, he — 
why he tried to whistle. But it was of no use — he couldn't. 
He had shot and — the bird wasn't there. He — the deadly 
rifle of the Saranacs ! To be sure, an hour afterward, he 
broke a silence of fifteen minutes by telling me that it was 
" all Watch's doin's ! that he stuck his consarned nose right 
agin my elbow jest as I was pullin' ; " but I noticed a 
slinking air in the old woodman, the rest of the day. 

But just now, he tried to change the topic. 

*' Don't you think that island looks suthin' like a 
schooner, Mr. Smith?" in a subdued voice, and giving a 
sweep with his oars. 

It certainly did. It was about a quarter of an acre in 
extent, rocky, with groups of thickets and two tall trees 
resembling masts. 

" There's old Moose !" exclaimed Harvey, shortly after, 
pointing to a vast mountain, smooth with its woods and 
blocking the horizon to the south-east. 

" Next is Cove Hill. You'll see this and Mount Morris, 
all the way crost Bound Lake, till you come nigh abouts to 
Bartlett's. Cove Hill agin comes out plain at the fust of 
the Stony Creek Ponds, crost the Injin Carry. On t'other 
side o' Moose Mountain, twixt it and Mount Seward, is Am- 
persand Pond; that sends out agin Ampersand Brook, 
which j'ines the last of the Stony Creek Ponds jest where 
Stony Creek goes out " 

Harvey now rowed for a considerable distance in silence. 

The sun had marched into a broad space of blue sky, 
the breeze had fallen and the lake was glassy. We passed 



40 



WOODS AND WATERS 



island afler island, heaped with their forest foliage, some 
hke green domes, others broken with ledges. Counterparts 
were painted on the crystal of the lake— the rocks to the 
most delicate lichen stain and tiniest moss cup, the trees to 
the most spider-webbed fibre, and even the waterplants to 
their most fairy blossom. We glided over these green 
pictures, as if skimming the air in some magic bark above 
the real rock and forest. The furrows from the oars ruf- 
fled them for a moment, but they reunited, fragment to 
rock, branch to tree, blossom to plant, as the gentle water 
pulses ceased ; and all was once more perfect. 

" There's Outlet Island, where the S'nac river leaves the 
lake for Plattsburgh on Old Champlain," said Harvey, 
jerking his head to the east. " A queer thing happened 
there oust; I set my trap fur a bear on the island, nigh a 
deadfall fur mink. Well, I didn't go nigh it agin fur a 
fortnight. Finally, at last, I consated I'd go and see what 
luck I'd had. Afore I got to the trap, I found the trees all 
gnawed and stripped round, and the bushes stamped flat, 
and some old logs all bruk up ; and, by goll ! ef there 
wasn't bear tracks round, enough to set a dozen school 
mams a-puzzlin' ! Finally at last, I come to a little holler, 
and there was the biggest bear I'd seen that season, dead' 
with the trap all bent and battered up, hanging to his hind 
leg. The deadfall was bruk up too, with a mossle o' 
mink's hair nigh it. My idee was, that the bear 'ad got 
into the trap shortly after I'd set it, and finally at last 
starved to death, after he'd eat a mink that 'ad got into 
the deadfall; but see that wood-duck steerin' by Loon 
Island!" pointing to a small rock in the middle of the 
lake. 

" Why, how many islands are there, Harvev ? It seems 
to me they form a perfect network." 

" There's fifty-two ! The lake looks like speck-maple 
from B-oot Bay Mountain with 'm. But there's Mount 
Tawwus agin, and Mount Mclntyre by it. That's where 
the great Ingin Pass is, and a mighty grand place 'tis too." 



41 

" YouVe been there, Harvey ?" said I, pricking up my 
ears. 

"Onst," resting on his oars, to dip his old cofFee-pot 
again and drink. " How the rock on one side o' the Pass 
could get up so high into the clouds, isn't inkstand with 
me. Why, it scoots up right afore ye, as if 'twasn't never 
goin' to stop till it bunks its head agin' the moon or 
some other place up there. That air pine," pointing to 
a vegetable Anak on shore, " wouldn't look bigger on top 
there, than a deer-weed. And there's holes in the rocks 
you hev to scramble over, to git through the passage, big 
enough to hide all Gen'ral Jackson's army at Orleens. 
But speakin' o' the mountains, there's Mount Seward next 
to Mount Mclntyre and risin' over old Moose." 

I looked and saw the blue summit, with a spot like a 
star sparkling high upon its breast. 
j Since then, I have grown familiar with that star. 

Once, in the fearful wilderness tha4: stretches from its 
base, I became accidentally separated from my comrades. 
I knew not where to turn. A tempest was near and I 
looked forward with dread to a night passed alone in that 
forest, exposed to its fury and to the chance prowlings of 
the savage animals roaming the gloomy depths, which were 
unknown even to the oldest hunters. The shanty of an 
Indian trapper, in which we had taken our noontide meal, 
was within an hour's distance, but where ? Above me, 
soared the vast mountain, and it frowned more darkly 
than ever, in the shadow of the coming storm. 

Just as I had surrendered all hope of extricating myself, 
a spot flashed out on the breast of the mountain, to a 
sudden gleam of sunshine. It was the star ; and guided by 
it, I found, before the night fell, the kindly cabin, and heard 
against the protecting walls, the wild tempest thundering 
through the pauses of my slumber. 

" That flashy place there on Seward, is a ledge with a 
waterfall over it, and it al'ays shines jess like a tin platter 
in the sun," continued Harvey, " but fur a shiny thing, 



42 

the slide on Old Whiteface, standin' up out there, is the 
most flashiest! It looks as much like a white riband, as 
anj that a pootj schoolmam puts in her hair, when she's 
riggin' out fur a dancin' bee." 

" Aha ! Whiteface ! have you been up it, Harvey ?" 
"I hev so! Gittin' up gives yer a high old time.; 
Hadn't I better put a stop to that crane's flyin' any fur- 
der?" pointing his rifle, as the slim bird, stretching her 
snaky neck and towing her spindle legs, moved heavily 
athwart the green mainshore; "but let her go" (remember- 
ing probably the gull). " As I was sayin', gittin' up that 
mountain is mighty bad sleddin' ! It's a rael old Dutch 
ruff of a consarn, and afore ye strike the slide, you tug 
right up straight a'most with your hands and feet, about 
the same as a bear 'ud go up a tree. Eisin' the slide is a 
good deal like mountin' a ladder from the top of a meetin'- 
'ouse up to the steeple. It makes ye fairly dizzy. But 
it's old hunderd when yer git there, Mr. Smith. You kin 
see miles on miles, all round yer. It makes yer feel as ef, as 
a body may say, you was one o' them eagles high up in the 
air a-lookin' down'ards, and ef a feller could make himself 
into a ball like a bear and roll down agin, you'd feel all 
the better. But you can't stay up long, unless you camp 
all night, for there's no housen within miles on ye, even 
from the foot of the mountain, lettin' alone the mountain 
itself." 

" Oncle Joe Estis," continued the old guide, a moment 
after, "see that slide made. He was roofin' a barn, nigh 
Lake Placid — 'twas about thirty years ago — and all of a 
sudden, he heerd a sound like thunder from the mountain, 
and see smoke, with rocks and trees tumblin' kinder dim 
like through 't, down, down the side, a crashin' and a roar- 
in' ; and when the cloud of smoke cleared away, there was 
the grey slide o' rock half way down to the foot, the same 
as 'tis now." 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 43 



CHAPTER Y. 

Lower Saranac Lake. — A Talk on Trapping. — A Moose Story. — Saranac 
River. — Moose Mountain. — Middle Falls. — Round Lake. — Umbrella Point. 
— Bartlett's — Upper Saranac Lake. 

We had been skimming, for some little time, in sight of 
a long mountain at the right, or west side of the lake, and 
now came abreast of a beautiful bay, opening in the same 
direction. 

"I've camped often at the lower eend o' Boot Bay here," 
continued the old woodman. " It winds and twists south 
along 'twixt Boot Bay Mountain that you see there, and 
Loomis' P'int. Pope's Bay winds on t'other side, with 
Mack's P'int twixt the bay and lake. Both's old hunderd 
for ketchin' fur. There's as much as a dozen of old dead- 
falls o' mine tucked away 'long the shores of each on 'm, at 
this very time." 

" What do you trap for, Harvey ?" 

"Muskrat and otter and mink and saple and fisher. 
The two last is gittin' source about here. But I'll tell ye 
suthin', Mr. Smith, ef you'll keep it cluss. I know where 
there's beaver !" 

" Beaver ! Harvey, beaver ! Can ye take me to them ?" 

"I kin take ye to the waters where they hev their 
housen and where I've trapped 'm fur years, every fall 
a'most." 

"Where?" ♦ 

" Up in the St. Regis' woods, off north-east o' the head 
of the Upper S'nac." 

" Good ! we'll make that expedition, before I leave this 
region, Harvey I" 



44 WOODS AND waters; 

" I'm with ye !" answered the old trapper, " and we'll 
consider the consarn settled on !" 

"How do you take the animals you have mentioned, 
Harvey?" * 

"Muskrats and beaver and otter, ginVally in common 
steel traps. But we make deadfalls fur saple and mink. 
They're made this way : You cut large chips or blocks of 
wood and fix 'em in the ground in a tight half round, and 
cover the top over with hemlock or spruce or other thick 
boughs. That's called the boxin'. Then yer lay down a 
piece o' wood along the openin', called the bed- wood. Then 
yer lay a round stick, called the spindle, crost the bed- 
wood, with a piece of ven'son or trout on the eend, that's in 
the boxin'. On the forred part o' the spindle, yer stand 
up another round stick, called the standard, and on top o' 
that yer lay a heavy piece o' timber, a tree or big bough, 
that's called the top pole. So when the mink or saple 
crawls in and nibbles the bait, down comes the top pole 
squash, and there's an eend o' the critter. Them kind o 
traps is scattered all along these waters ; and as fur the saple 
traps, we make a line on 'm fort}^, fifty miles through the 
woods, and hack the trees along, which we call blazin', and 
scatter the traps, a dozen or mebby twenty to the mile ; 
and some take fresh deer entrails, when they kin, and scent 
up the traps, fur the mink and saple to smell and foller 'm 
As fur the fisher, he's al'ys breakin' inter the back o' the 
boxin' and stealin' the bait in these traps, so we hev a trap 
or contrivance fur him, in these saple lines. We bend down 
a saplin' so as to hev the eend in a notch we make in a 
root or log cluss to the ground; then we fasten a common 
trap to this eend, baited ; so when the fisher pulls on the bait, 
the saplin' flies up out o' the notch with Mr. fisher danglin' 
with his foot in the trap, and there he hangs till he dies 
or the trappers comes 'long. That's what we call, footin' the 
fisher. Sometimes he gnaws his foot off to git away, but 
gin'rally we find him danglin' there like a piece o' smoked 
ven'son; but shell I git ye a taste of the spring up there?" 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 45 

Receiving my assent, lie rowed to tlie shore, through a 
broad aisle of lily -pads, disappeared up the steep bank, and 
returning with his coffee-pot brimmed with the liquid, 
Dffered me a draught. 

Of all beverages, commend me the spring water of this 
region. The crystal of the lakes and streams is sweet and 
refreshing, but the cold nectar that bubbles up from the 
grainy silver, at some old mossy root or lichened ledge, is 
worthy the lips of 

" Heroes in history, and gods in song." 

"Look at that rock up there I" said Harvey, after we had 
resumed our way ; pointing to a ledge rearing its mural 
front upon a bank three-hundred feet high, near the inlet 
or entrance of the Saranac River. 

The cliff looked like some grey rampart of the dark 
ages, frowning from its steep upon its vassal waters. 
; " There was an old hunter by the name o' Ramrod, that 
had an adventur up there," continued he. " Well, fust of 
all, there used to be in a corner of the rock, an old dead 
Ipine with prongs all down its sides. It come up to a level 
with the head of the rock. One day, he telled me, he 
rousted up a bull moose and unly wownded him. Did ye 
ever hev a mad bull make at ye? I tell ye that's some, 
but 'twant nothin' to the way that moose made at Old Ram- 
rod, 'cordin' to his tell, full trot. 'Twant but a leetle way 
from the head o' the ledge, and I tell ye, he put it. A 
half a minute fetched him to the top o' that air pine, 
and he throwed himself on the prongs, and down he went. 
But he hadn't tuk more'n four steps, afore the moose come 
to the edge o' the rock, and over he went, licketty split. 
;Ho ! ho ! ho ! wa'n't there a dead moose ketched in some 
spruces, a'most down to the edge o' the water, after he'd bin 
knocked from rock to rock down the precipyce, 'cordin' to 
Ramrod I and wa'n't he glad I I tell ye it sot him up, as 
[he said, for the rest o' the day, fur it wouldn't ha' bin no 

■ _ ___._._ __ _ __ _. 



46 WOODS AND WATEKS; 

b'y's play, ef that dod-blamed wownded, cross-grained old 
moose had a ketched him afore he'd got to that air pine, 
now I tell ye. I know suthin' about that, myself. They're 
a terr'ble farse critter, when they're riz np, and I'd ruther 
eat dumplins any day than fight one on 'm. There's an 
otter slide !" pointing to a smooth path down a bank of the 
main shore. "But here we are, at the S'nac River! The 
rest of the boats is out o' sight, but we'll overhaul 'm at 
Middle Falls, where they'll stop, I've a notion, to fish. 
It's a good place for trout there! or mebby they'll stop this 
side ; there's a good brook there, too !" 

As the old guide was speaking, we entered the river. 
Directly at the entrance, on our right, lay an expanse of 
wild grass and thickets, with a deep fringing of water- 
plants. 

The views now changed suddenly as the scenes of a 
theatre. The banks became low, the woods frequently 
yielding to broad spaces of natural grass, called indiffer- 
ently by the guides, parks and wild-meadows. They were 
skirted, next the water, either with thickets or trees, the 
green levels beyond being seen through the loops and 
vistas of the foliage. 

Sometimes, these meadows wound like bays into the 
recesses of the background forest, beckoning the fiincy to 
distant nooks of beauty. 

Here and there, in the forked head of a dry tree, was 
the nest of the fish-hawk, a rounded mass of grey withered 
sticks. From the abundance of the water in these woods, 
this bird haunts almost every scene, and its huge nest, 
frequently met, gives a wild picturesqueness to the mono- 
tony of the verdure. 

Spread over the shallows, was a broad floor of lily -pads, 
glistening in green varnish and brilliant with white and 
yellow blossoms, the pearly scallops of the former resting 
on the surface, and the globes of the latter erect upon their 
short, thick stems. 

The dark red Mohawk-tassel and the scarlet-berried 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 47 

Solomon's-seal gleamed upon the banks, and on their tall 
stems, tufted in the water, shone the purple blossoms of the 
moosehead. 

Between these meadows, the forest thronged to the river's 
edge so densely as to slant many of the skirting trees 
nearly athwart the stream. We skimmed over the shadows 
in the water, where some jagged branch was so accurately 
depicted, it seemed that the little Bluebird would be torn 
while gliding over. 

Black, soaking logs, almost buried in the waterweeds, 
lay along or pointed from the banks, whence the twittering 
stream-birds vanished at our approach, while from among 
the plants, the duck whizzed and the frog and occasional 
muskrat plunged. 

" Look out fur the fifth bend o' the river, Mr, Smith, 
fui" a nice sight, as you seem to hev a notion of seein' 
mountains," said Harvey ; " but here's all the party, and 
they've bin fishin' like sixty." 

Sure enough, comrades and guides were just leaving 
the mouth of a little brook which joins the river at the 
east. 

" Here comes the loiterer !" shouted Bingham. " What 
have you been about. Smith ? Here we've been pulling 
up trout as fast as Joe Bunker, the pettifogger, can lie. 
But whew ! The musquitoes ! We've been like the Jews 
in building the walls of Jerusalem, fighting with one hand 
and working with the other. Ealph and Gaylor don't 
seem to have minded them, though ! I lay it to the thick- 
ness of their skins! But poor Coburn! he " 

" Do, for Heaven's sake, stop that tongue of yours, Bing !" 
exclaimed Gaylor. ^' It's like a runaway horse I" 

" It runs to some purpose, then, or you wouldn't try to 
stop it !" retorted Bingham. " I'll gird ye, as Falstaflf says, 
if the musquitoes can't." 

" These musquitoes are terrible, there's no mistake about 
it!" said Coburn, his usually bluff, hearty tme, now 
low and slightly fretful. "I-I hardly — believe — I can 



48 WOODS AND WATERS; 

stand it all tlie way, if the whole trip is to be so. I don't 
know but I begin a little to repent coming." 

"Nonsense, Coburn," exclaimed Bingham, "pluck up 
what spirit you have and put it through I" 

" Exactly 1" returned poor Coburn, plaintively, " put it 
through — that's what I complain of. There's been no- 
thing but putting it through, ever since we've been at this 
plaguey spot." 

" Didn't I hear you singing, ' The woodpecker tapping 
the hollow beech tree,' pretty loud, on the lake, Coburn ?" 
said Gaylor, smiling. 

" Yes ! but I didn't bargain for the tapping I've had here," 
returned Coburn, fidgetting in his seat. 

" Well, come, let us tap on our way. We've caught our 
fish, don't let us waste any time in talking," said Ralph, 
who was smoking like a locomotive. 

" On, Stanley, on !" roared Bingham, and we all again 
started. 

" Now look out for the view, Mr. Smith I" said Harvey, 
shortly after. 

We opened upon a bend, and, filling the horizon, a 
mountain broke out with an expanse of its broad breast, so 
sudden as to be startling. 

"Old Moose agin!" said Harvey, "but look, Mr. Smith, 
look !" dropping the oars and grasping his rifle which lay 
within reach, fitted into the side of the boat. 

On a little glade of smooth grass, at my right, were two 
deer, one with head erect looking at the boat, and the other 
crouched at its feet. 

Mine was a mere glance, for before Harvey could point 
his weapon, the two had vanished, more like shapes of 
smoke dissolving into air, than living things shooting into 
the foliage. 

A dashing, crashing sound now filled the air, and we saw 
the gleam of foam in the channel of the stream. It was the 
" Middle Falls," where the water was broken by scattered 
rocks, into a rapid. 






OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 49 

Here was our first carrying-place. Landing, I made my 
way through the narrow footpath, up and along the bank 
clustered with aspens, spruces and maples, to the broad 
ledges at the side of the falls, where Kalph and Gaylor fell 
as greedily to the task of deluding the trout on their hooks, 
as if they had never before thrown a line. Bingham com- 
menced spouting " The Falls of Lodore ;" Coburn, taking 
a seat, began rubbing his musquito bites ; I looked about 
the spot and watched the two anglers. 

Gaylor. A jerk ; a " squttering" (as Harvey says) in 
the water; curl of trout on surface; frantic slap on nose 
at musquito; mosquito nowhere; trout ditto. 

Eenning. Twitch; twitch and jerk up; hook in air; 
nothing on it; growls; hook swings into rapid; three grabs 
at gnats ; gnats nowhere ; trout ditto. Scene ended. 

For the boats have by this time been dragged through 
the rapids by the guides, and all is ready once more for a 
start. 

During this process, my eye had been fastened on Har- 
vey. Each boat was towed by a rope at the bow, with a guid- 
ing oar in the middle. The old guide was most industrious. 
Planted to his waist in the white waters, now he dragged 
at the bow, now kept the boat from the rocks by the oar. 
But the greatest trial of skill was in running the two store- 
boats. With his keen eyes widening, his whole form alive 
with excitement, yelling, pulling, pushing off with the oar 
from the rocks ; shouting quick commands, as the stern of 
Corey's boat once nearly buried itself in the foam and 
then keeled as if to spill her load in the rapids, the old 
boatman showed himself, as his after bearing proved him, 
the master spirit of the guides. 

" We'll hev a dancin' time on't, over Eound Lake," said 
he, resuming his rowing and jerking his head at the sway- 
ing of the trees, even on this sheltered stream. " But the 
swells '11 be with us instid of agin us, and that's jest all the 
diff' rence. One's a boost in the back and t' other's a punch 
in the bell v." 

3 



50 WOODS AND 

A curve of the river was passed, and Kound Lake, roll- 
ing and dark, now opened. Here we stopped for lunch. 
An enormous, prone hemlock on the left bank of the stream, 
was our table, with myriads of wild roses, which spangled 
the thickets as if a pink snow storm had fallen there, per- 
fuming the air, and with the low roar of the lake for our 
accompanying music. 

We were soon on its angry waters. Gallantly did old 
Harvey swing his oars, and boldly did the little Bluebird 
dance along, after rustling through the long, dense rushes of 
the shallows at the entrance, the swells threatening, every 
moment, to bury our little bark. Onward, however, she 
went safely, although with shifting walls of water on either 
hand, and ridges swelling in front, while the other boats 
were rising and sinking in deep see-saws. The white- 
edged rollers were climbing wrathfully the sides of the 
islands, and the air was filled with the hoarse voice of the 
lake. 

Eastward, Moose Mountain, the whole grand breast of 
Cove Hill and the summit of Mount Morris, bounded the 
horizon, without an opening or scorched tint in the fresh 
smooth foliage, with tall pines and hemlocks, " the haughty 
senators of mighty woods," rising here and there above the 
general surface. 

Over these mountains, sailed swift lights and shades, like 
the play of color upon velvet. Occasionally, the breast of 
a ridge glowed in golden sheen ; an immense shadow then 
rose from the lake like the Afrite from his crystal vase, and 
clambered the acclivity, the startled sunshine shrinking 
before it, until it vanished over the summit. 

" There's somebody taking a snack on Bark Canoe Island 
to the right there I" said Harvey, looking over his shoulder 
towards a blue streak of smoke undulating through the 
trees. In a few minutes, we were abreast a noon camp. 
In the foreground of a little green dingle, the carcass of a 
deer hung from a limb ; a camp fire crimsoned a ledge in 
the back ground; and a spotted hound crouched by a bush. 






OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 51 

In the middle picture, were two men in red hunting-shirts; 
•one toasting, on a stick, a flake of venison, and one seated 
on a stump, examining his rifle. 

" Halloo, Harve !" shouted the former, as we danced past, 
"you're hevin' a Scotch jig on the lake there, aint ye?" 
■ "Yes, it's lively times here I" answered Harvey, "but 
where did you kill your deer?" 

"Nigh Duck Island, out there! He took to the water 
from Bartlett's clearin' and run down rmb'rell P'int. He 
swum lively, but 'twas no go. Loot settled him afore he 
got to the island !" 

"Stearns Williams and Loot Evans!" said Harvey, 
"they live with Bartlett. But there's UmbVell P'int!" 
glancing toward a tongue of wood thrust into the lake at 
the west, near an upland which had been burned over, dis- 
playing darkened rocks, charred logs, and standing trees 
of a dull red, scattered over a partially blackened soil. 

" That pine, lookin' so like an umb'rell, gives the name 
to the p'int," pointing to a tree standing far above the 
other foliage of the spot, with a trunk bare nearly to the 
top, where a few large branches curved out, the whole very 
like the object mentioned. 

" I remember the time well," added Harvey, " when that 
tree had all its branches like any other pine. But there's 
a story round the woods about it : how one time. Old Nick 
wanted to go a-tishin' in the lake when 'twas rainin' ; so he 
tore up the tree and whipped off the branches with his big 
jack-knife, carried it with him into the lake and stood 
under it whilst he grabbed the all-firedest big trout that 
ever was seen in these waters ; then as soon as it come to 
the top and see his eyes, it turned all cooked to his hands, 
and when he got through fishin', he put the pine back agin, 
and went ridin' over on a streak o' blue sulphur to Tupper's 
Lake Mountain or Mount Morris, that you see over there 
to the south-west. There's no eend of sich stories in the 
woods, Mr. Smith, but it takes a fool to believe half on 
'm." 



52 WOODS AND waters; 

" Ought not this lake, Harvey, to be called the Middle 
Saranac ?" 

" That's jest as folks has a mind to. It's gin'rally called 
Round Lake 'cause 'tis round ; but then it's about in the 
middle 'twixt Upper and Lower S'nac." 

" How many islands has it ?" 

" There's Duck Island and Buck Island and Feather 
Bed Island, Bark Canoe Island, Bear and Amelia Islands, 
west ; and Watch, Hatchet and Fawn Islands, east ; nine 
in all." 

" You see that burnt ridge over there by the p'int," con- 
tinued he; " 'twas burnt over three years ago, and a rousin' 
time 'twas, I tell ye. Ef all the furnaces in Black Brook 
could be brought to blaze away t'gether, 'twouldn't be 
nothing to what that fire was. Why, the pines and hem- 
locks quirled up like caterpillars, and as fur the bushes, 
they went off like blottin'-paper, and the leaves fell jest 
like bugs inter a camp-fire. 'Twas night, and I was on the 
lake at the time. Sich a roarin' and sich a red it thro wed 
on the sky and on the lake ! Why, my two b'ys, Sim 
and Phin, that was with me, looked like a couple o' red 
divils. And, sanko ! how the sparks flew ! All of a sud- 
den, I heerd sich a screech. 'Twas so shrill-like and piti- 
ful, it cut right through me. Oust, twyst, three times it 
come, then there was four or five doleful whines, and 'twas 
all still. 'Twas a painter, I've a notion, ketcbed in some 
holler in the rocks where it couldn't git out, and was burnt 
to death." 

We had now crossed the lake. We entered once more 
the Saranac river, losing, as we did so, the influence of the 
wind. 

The ripples from the oars washed over the broad, thick 
lily-pads, the water quickly peeling from the oily varnish 
or shrinking upon it into large drops. The white lily 
leaves, where they had been stirred up by the oar or feed- 
ing deer, showed in their inner lining a dull crimson, and 
those of the yellow, only a lighter green. 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 53 

A mile farther brought us in sight of Bartlett's. We 
threw our lines at the mouth of a brook on our left, and a 
brief half hour rewarded us with a dozen trout, of a pound 
each. We then crossed and landed among the rest of our 
boats, close to a large slab boat-house. 

At this point, began a quarter-mile carry westward, 
along the rapids of the river, to the U23per Saranac 
Lake. 

The clearing contained but an acre or so, on the north 
bank of the river. Here stood Bartlett's two-story, un- 
painted, frame tavern, and its shadow lay cool and black 
upon the gentle, grassy slope, as I passed toward the entrance. 
Our guides were clustered at the open door of a log hut at 
one side, with several gaunt hounds that, I found, belonged 
to Bartlett. 

A huge, savage-looking bull-dog, with porcupine quills 
clinging to his coat, and his black lips curled over his white 
fangs, stalked near the hut, looking powerful enough to 
bring down even a moose, while Bartlett himself, a short 
but strong, square-built man, with a hat that seemed made 
of dingy jackstraws, talked to one, laughed with another 
and kicked the hounds generally out of his way, with exple- 
tives more emphatic than pious. 

In the sitting room, I found my comrades louder than 
usual in conversation, for which the empty glasses, telling 
clearly of punch, probably accounted. 

The boats and luggage having been carried on wheels 
over the portage to the Upper Lake, we followed, leaving 
Bartlett in the act of applying his right foot to the ribs of 
an unlucky hound, and the bull-dog gazing after us with a 
face grim enough to darken daylight. 

The afternoon sun sprinkled the bushes and trees of the 
ridge like golden rain, and soon the bright waters of the 
Upper Saranac gleamed before us. We watched the guides 
as they reloaded the boats ; steadying them by the bows, 
while we entered to our places at the stern. The wind had 
lulled ; the lake lay in smooth sleep ; no more symptoms 



54 WOODS AND WATERS; 

of rain were visible. Gaily we launclied upon tbe water, 
here narrowed into a bay, and merrily rose our songs. 

Sometimes a playful breeze stooped to the surface brush- 
ing it into darkening ripples, then fanned our brows with 
its delicate wings and melted away. 

We soon turned the point at the east, whence we could 
see the lake stretching upward to the north, narrowed by 
islands into winding channels. As I glanced through 
these liquid paths, I longed to thread them toward the 
upper waters, which, the guides united in saying, were so 
exquisite in their beauty. 

Pointing southwest, we passed Birch and Johnson 
Islands, crossed the intervening basin and landed, an hour 
before sunset, at the Indian Carrying-Place. 



55 



CHAPTER YI. 

Sunrise. — Indian Legend. — The Saranac Wizards. — Mode of Carrying the 
Boats.— The Beaver-Pond Hunt.— The Stony Ponds. 

I KETIRED to rest in the tent about midniglit and awoke 
-at day-break. There was a cool, grey light over the lake, 
which lay like glass. The fronts of the islands rose indis- 
tinctly as if reared in air, with dark pictures below them. 
The atmosphere was fresh almost to chilliness, and sweet 
with the odors of the woods. The tent looked ghostly, 
the forest gloomy. A brace of loons near the margin 
were sending out their wild halloos like Indian warwhoops, 
awakening a hundred quavering echoes. An eagle was 
sailing over the lake ; a* drowsy twitter was creeping- 
through the woods. The smokeless cabin looked dead. 
The camp fire was smouldering in brown ashes, with em- 
bers melting along the charred back-log. 

The largest of the stars were still shining, although 
dimly, through the sombre tints of the sky. 

Soon, however, the ash color of the east commenced to 
clear into semi-transparent grey, then to kindle into pale 
yellow. Trees began to creep out from the massed forest, 
and a streak of distant mist to crawl along the lake. The 
islands stood out more boldly. The twitter from the 
woods increased to chirps, swelling occasionall}^ into song. 
The lake showed differing though still sober tints ; here a 
space of marble grey, there of polished black. 

At length, the cheeks of the clouds at the zenith blushed 
into rose : one long cloud in the east began to glow into 
ruby, then burn into gold. Gemmed colors — sapphire, 
emerald, topaz and amethyst — glanced upon the lake. 



56 WOODS AND WATERS; 

Gold ran along the tops of the tallest trees. The east 
gleamed with rojal crimsons and imperial purples. At 
last, through a vista of the background ridge, striking the 
landscape into gladdening light, poured the lustre of the 
risen sun. 

The scene was now astir. The guides left the smaller 
tent (where they had slept with the exception of Harvey, 
who had preferred, wrapped in his blanket, to make his 
bed in a neighboring thicket) and began preparing the 
morning meal. My comrades appeared from the larger 
tent, Bingham's face opened with a yawn like a cavern, 
while Ralph's seemed swollen as if all his diabolical snores 
of the past night (he is a most horrible and provoking 
snorer, that Ealph) had settled there for the day. He 
also wore a hang-dog look, as though he felt guilty for 
his disturbance (may the Lord forgive him !) of at least one 
suffering individual. 

The smoke of the camp-fire commenced curling, and, as 
if it were a signal, the rough chimney of the log-cabin 
began to breathe. The guides, bending over the crackling 
blaze, toasted slices of ruddy venison and spread the trout 
on the winking coals for broiling, while the sauce-pans 
began to carol and the head of the tin teapot to strike up 
a clattering jig. 

Our sylvan meal ended, we lighted our pipes for a 
social smoke on the grass. 

"Ralph!" said Bingham, "you must feel quite ex- 
hausted by your last night's performance!" 

" How is that ?" returned Ralph, with a twinge of his 
shoulder, as if conscious of what was coming. 

" Why, those sounds that, more than human, echoed 
through the tent ! those unearthly snores, fit to wake the 
dead, let alone live people !" 

" Pish!" said Renning, pettishly, "do let my snores alone !" 

" But your snores won't let other people alone. Poor 
Smith there, looks as if he were becoming insane from 
want of sleep. It is really villanous! I — really — I — • 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 57 

with my delicate nerves too (with a languishing look), I — ■ 
I — won't be able to stand it. I shall break down ; at 
the beginning of the trip too ! AYhat will jou. do, when 
the air, out here, and the exercise have made you even 
stronger and heartier? I really dread to think of it! 
and the inveterate tease affected to shudder." 

"I mo^e we let each other's little peculiarities alone, and 
confine ourselves to general subjects," said Kenning, twist- 
ing uncomfortably in his position. 

" Little !" returned Bingham, putting on a stare. '^ Little ! 
Here's impudence ! And peculiarities ! Well, I never heard 
full, deep-chested, air-shaking, sleep-murdering roars, called 
little peculiarities before. Why, gentlemen," rising as if 
for a harangue, " he ascends the scale regularly, from the 
double bass of the biggest bullfmg to a height where he 
is in imminent danger of choking. There is no use in 
shaking him ; it only breaks the sound into numerous par- 
ticles and distributes them over a wider surface, splinter- 
ing, as it were, one monotonous note into counter, tenor 
and treble ; the scale then proceeding with more rascally 
vehemence than before. I'll match him against a dozen, 
I was going to say a regiment, of loons, any day or rather 
night ; for like the whippoorwill, this interesting friend of 
ours only sings at that season. I move we proceed against 
him as an outlaw, on the spot !" 

" How about the musquitoes, Bing?" said Kenning, reco- 
vering his good-humor, and charging in his turn upon the 
enemy — the common enem}^, I might say. "You were 
going to outlaw them, last night." 

"Bing is better in denouncing snores and musquitoes 
than in killing deer," said Gay lor quietly. 

"Deer!" exclaimed Bingham, " where's the deer I've 
missed, I should like to know ?" 

"Where's the deer you've shot?" enquired Coburn. 

" Shot !" returned Bingham crossly. " How the deuce can 
you shoot a deer, when you don't see any? I've shot all 
the deer I've seen !" 

3^ 



58 

"And that's nilP' said Gaylor. 

"Nil, sure enough ! I would have shot one of the deer, 
if not both, that Mart and Will brought in, last evening, 
had I seen them first. It is nil, sure enough ! All the hunt- 
ing stories that sportsmen and writers tell, of finding deer 
on every point and island and drinking at every creek in 
this wilderness, should be scouted, denounced, gentlemen! 
by all decent men. They talk as if deer are to be found in 
every alder-bush, and trout in every little ripple, no bigger 
than Coburn's conscience here ; and if, gentlemen ! (waving 
his hand), you can find anything smaller than that, you 
must turn your eyes into microscopes, that's all !" 

" Smith says you found the musquitoes rather trouble- 
some at the point, last evening," said Coburn, with a grim 
smile. 

" Oh, Smith !" said Bingham, turning to me. " Smith's 
tongue is the only thing about him that is even reasonably 
alive. I've wondered ever since we started, why we've ad- 
mitted him among us. Killing deer and catching trout are 
as much beyond him as Ealph's nasal accomplishments 
here are beyond a whole orchestra of hoot-owls, or even 
a moderate knowledge of men and things is beyond my 
friend Coburn here. But what on earth is that?" 

A long, open box of wood, mounted on round wooden 
blocks, about a foot from the ground, drawn by shadowy 
oxen and driven by a tatterdemalion that looked 
like a scarecrow from Corey's cornfield, met our sight. 
This picturesque conveyance, moving with most diabolical 
screeches as if laboring under a wooden rheumatism, we 
found was to transport our luggage over the carrj^ (a mile 
of travel), while our guides would bear our boats, and we 
betake ourselves to our independent feet. 

Shouldering our rifles and rods, up the ascent we started. 
I subsequently learned the legend connected with the 
clearing. 

About a hundred years ago, a large tribe of the Saranac 
Indians inhabited the forests through which runs the 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 69 

Indian Carrying-Place ; an old path, named by them, the 
Eaglenest Trail of the Saranacs. The site of the clearing 
held their village and Council-Place. They claimed as their 
exclusive hunting-grounds, not only the Eaglenest Forests, 
but those of the Wampum Waters,"^ the Stream of the 
Snake, f and the Sounding Kiver,:]: from the Lake of the 
Blue Mountain to Wild Mountain at the Leap of the Foam- 
ing Panther. § 

Two young warriors, stately and brave, divided the 
admiration of the Tribe ; Ta-yo-neh, the Wolf, and Do-ne- 
on-dah, the Eagle. 

Whenever the war-path led to the lodges of the fierce 
Tahawi, on the slopes of grand Tahawus, — The Splitter of 
the Sky — the young warriors vied with each other as to 
which should win the most scalps to his belt. Ta-yo-neh 
was brief in talk and his chants at the war-dance were few, 
but his eye burned with the fire of his heart. Do-ne-on-dah 
was frank in speech, and his song in the dance was loud. 
Although rivals on the war-path, the young braves smoked 
together the calumet of friendship. Love had made soft 
the heart of Ta-yo-neh and he had gathered to his lodge 
0-we-yo, the Blossom of the Tribe, but no maiden's eye as 
yet had kindled the breast of Do-ne-on-dah. The old men 
looked at both with pride, and the young with admiration. 
Each could skim the Lake of the Silver Sky at the head 
of the Eaglenest Trail, in his yellow canoe, as the eagle 
skims the air. The Lake of the Great Star|| saw the prints 
of each on his margin, after the deer, at noon ; the Stream 
of the Snake beheld on his winding banks at eve, the trail 
of the same feet unwearied. The Tribe, at length, became 
divided as to the merits of the two, but the strife was 
friendly. 

So rolled on the suns, and now the two young warriors 
were to visit the torrent of the Wild Mountain in search 



* The Stony Ponds. •{• Stony Creek. | Racket River. 

§ Perciefield Falls. j] Racket Lake. 



60 

of the stately moose. Both departed in their birch canoes, 
over the Wampum Waters at the foot of the Trail of the 
Eaglenest. 

The moon of the month of young leaves hung its bow 
to the glittering orb of the early evening, then grew round 
as the red ring in the eye of the loon, and nought was 
heard of the warriors. 

At last, as that same moon was quenched in its rising by 
the sun, Ta-yo-neh appeared but no Do-ne-on-dah. 

" Where is the Eagle of the Tribe ?" asked old 0-qua- 
rah, the Bear of the Saranacs, the Sachem of his Tribe. 

" He went with his brother to the Falls of the Wild 
Mountain, after the trotting moose," answered Ta-yo-neh- 
" but the Black Terror of the woods was not to be seen 
even by the keen-sighted Eagle. Ta-yo-neh and his bro- 
ther then paddled through the Eye of Ilah-wen-ne-yo* up 
the Lonely Eiverf to the Dark Lake,:]: where the Black 
Terror fell before the arrows of Do-ne-on-dah and Ta-yo 
neh. As the bright Sachem of the sky touched his feet 
Ujoon the Hill of the Kaven, Ta-yo-neh and his brother 
went out upon the trail of a deer. They climbed a tongue 
of the wood by the Dark Lake and Ta-yo-neh left his 
brother to follow a panther's trail leading from the trail 
they were treading. Since then, Ta-yo-neh has mourned 
for the sight of his brother." 

"Wolf!" shouted 0-qua-rah, while his eye gleamed like 
the fire in the wood, " the Sachem of the Saranacs hears a 
forked tongue — Ta-yo-neh has torn with his claws the heart 
from Do-ne-on-dah !" 

" Ta-yo-neh cannot lie," answered the other firmly. " He 
knows not what has happened to his brother the Eagle. 
He searched the tongue and the dark waters beneath it. 
He was a whippoorwill, all night calling ' Do-ne-on-dah ! 
Do-ne-on-dah !' but nought answered, save the mocking 
spirit that only speaks what the voice utters." 

* Tupper's Lake. f Bog River. ^ Mud Lake. 



61 

"Wolf!" again shouted O-qua-rala; and this time, he 
clutched his tomahawk. " Where is Do-ne-on-dah ?" 

" Ta-yo-neh has said," answered the other. 

" Die !" yelled the Sachem, and swung on high his toma- 
hawk, but a light form shrieking flew between it and Ta- 
jo-neh and the glittering axe sank into the brain of 0-we- 

Ta-3^o-neh started as his bride fell dead at his feet, 
clutched his tomahaw^k in his turn and swung it toward 
the head of the Sachem. But the blow w^as arrested bj one 
of the old men of the Tribe. 

" Go !" said he, " the old Bear of the Saranacs — the 
Sachem of the Tribe — must not be torn by the young Wolf. 
0-kah also asks, where is Do-ne-on-dah ?" 

" Do-ne-on-dah ! Do-ne-on-dah !" rose in notes of wailing 
and anger from a portion of the Tribe ; " Ta-yo-neh ! 
Ta-yo-neh!" mingled with " 0-we-yo," in accents of grief, 
broke out from the others. Knives and hatchets flashed 
and a terrible conflict had commenced, when old 0-qua-rah, 
with Ta-yo-neh's knife plunged in his heart, fell headlong 
among the combatants. Tlie strife was arrested ; the arm 
of Hah-wen-ne-yo had interposed ; the sacrifice to j astice 
had been made. The heart of Ta-yo-neh had been cloven 
by the death of 0-we-yo ; 0-qua-rah had been stricken 
down by the bereaved Ta-yo-neh. 

But though the combat ceased, the feelings springing 
from these events soon caused a separation of the Tribe. 
One portion, under Ta-yo-neh, went down the Sounding 
Eiver to the Green Council-Place, close to the beautiful 
lake, the Eye of Hah-wen-ne-yo ; the other, under 0-kah, 
remained at the Eaglenest Trail of the Saranacs. Moons 
upon moons passed away, while the two portions of the 
Tribe became more and more angry with each other. Ta- 
yo-neh claimed the hunting-grounds down the Sounding 
Eiver to the Council-Place, 0-kah those of the Eaglenest, 
the Wampum Waters and upward to the Lake of the Blue 
Mountain ; but the Stream of the Snake that winds from 



62 

the Wampum Waters saw often the gleam of the hatchet 
between the two and his own bright brow stained with 
Saranac blood drawn by kindred, but now alien, Sara-, 
nacs. Hundreds of moons passed. Ta-yo-neh grew into 
a withered pine, with grey moss fluttering thinly from his 
top, and then a fallen trunk, which the Tribe reverently hid 
within the earth. 

One day, the Tribe of the Eaglenest saw a canoe coming 
upon the Lake of the Silver Sky. It touched the shore 
and an old man tottered out and with feeble steps ap- 
proached them. 

"Has the tribe of the Saranacs forgotten Do-ne-on-dah ?" 
he asked, in faltering accents. 

" The dead still lives in the Tribe," answered 0-nech-tah, 
the son of 0-kah, who had in turn become the Sachem, 
" but it is as the song of a bird heard when the heart was 
young, lingering faintly in the thoughts of the aged." 

" Do-ne-on-dah is here !" answered the stranger, laying 
his hand feebly on his breast. 

Doubt flitted across the face of 0-nech-tah. The stran- 
ger opened the beaver skin ftom his bosom, and lo ! there, 
stamped upon his heart, shone the totem of the Eagle. 
Then knew the Tribe it was indeed Do-ne-on-dah tottering 
before them. A shrill cry of joy and welcome went up, 
and " Do-ne-on-dah ! Do-ne-on-dah !" echoed in the woods 
of the Eaglenest and over the waters of the Silver Sky. 

" How did Do-ne-on-dah return from the bright Land of 
the Happy ?" asked 0-nech-tah. " Has Hah-wen-ne-yo 
spared him for a while from the Feast of the Strawberry, to 
gladden the hearts of his people the Saranacs ?" 

" Do-ne-on-dah's feet have not 3^et trod the trail that 
leads to the land of Hah-wen-ne-yo," answered the other. 
" He lingers like the hemlock that the moss covers, but 
must soon fall and mingle with the dead leaves of the 
forest." 

He then told them how, after Ta-yo-neh left him, he had 
fallen through a cleft into a cave, where he had lain help- 



OK, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 63 

less, until discovered by hunters on their way to Canada ; 
how he had joined the British against the French in the 
war between the two countries; was rescued from death in 
battle by an Indian Chief, who gave him his daughter, and 
whose Tribe made him Chief after the death of his pre- 
server ; how he had lived since happily, surrounded by 
his children and children's children in the distant spot 
where the Tribe had dwelt, and how, lately, the whole 
Tirbe had been swept away by the Hurons and he had now 
come to die among the people of his youthful love. 

Joy took possession of the Tribe of the Eaglenest, as they 
listened. A runner was despatched with the tidings, to 
the Tribe at the Eye of Hah-wen-ne-yo, and the next day, 
at sunset, both tribes were assembled in the Council-Place 
of the Eaglenest. Do-ne-on-dah took his seat upon a mound 
with 0-nech-tah and Ko-nu-teh, Chief of the lower Tribe, at 
either hand supporting him, for he drooped like the elm 
when the water is washing under its roots. The old man then 
repeated his story and ended by solemnly enjoining both 
Tribes to live together hereafter in amity. They as solemnly 
promised, raising in unison the shrill whoop of friendship. 
As the last quavering note died away, Do-ne-on-dah, with 
a quick motion, bent his ear, reared himself suddenly on 
high, flung his arm aloft and saying loudly, " The Eagle 
hears the voice of Hah-wen-ne-3^0 ! He comes !" stepped 
forward a few paces and fell dead in the sight of all the 
people. 

The two Tribes buried him, just as he had sat upon the 
mound, by the side of Ta-yo-neh, on the margin of the Eye 
of Hah-wen-ne-yo, and ever after lived in harmony and 
peace. When the sad time came to leave the Grreen Coun- 
cil-Place and the woods of the Eaglenest, together their 
canoes rippled the Lake of the Silver Sky and together 
they sought the waters of the Ottawa in the hunting-grounds 
of Canada. There, remnants of the Tribe still live in con- 
tentment and prosperity. 

We had a delightful walk over the carry. The track 



64 . WOODS AND waters; ■ 

was broad and passably smooth, with here and there huge 
roots running across and bordered with luxuriant wood- 
plants. It dipped into hollows and wound pleasantly 
along, with the fresh morning sunshine lighting up the 
whole. 

Upon one side, was the curiosity of the carry. Withered, 
jagged limbs projected from the bark of living trees 
like struggling skeletons. The sight was truly death 
in life. 

The legend runs thus. While the Saranacs inhabited 
the carry, certain wizards from the lonely waters of Am- 
persand Pond in the wild region between Moose Mountain, 
Cove Hill and Mount Seward, so troubled the Tribe that a 
feast was holden on Turtle Island ; and the old Patriarch 
Priest of the Tribes, forsaking his cave in a gorge of Cove 
Hill, prayed for help to Ilah-wen-ne-yo. The Great Spirit 
listened to the prayer. One night of lightning and rain, 
the wizards who were slumbering in hollow trees, were 
awakened (so said one who had been least guilty and who 
escaped to tell the tale) by finding themselves walled in 
with growing bark. In their despairing struggles, they 
thrust forth their arms, which were caught by the bark and 
there they withered. To this day, when the fall wind wails 
in the forest, sounds of sorrow float upon it from these 
magic trees, the coffins of the wizards of the Saranacs. 

At the end of the carry, on the shore of the first of the 
three Stony or Spectacle Ponds, we found one of our 
American ruins, a dilapidated log hut, with a dead clearing 
around it, dotted with dark stumps and strewed with half- 
burned logs. 

Here we basked in the sunshine, after drinking from a 
spring that bubbled through the overgrown border, await- 
ing the transportation of our boats over the carry. 

The conical breast of Cove Hill, dark with wood, heaved 
grandly up eastward. Ampersand Pond is cradled at 
its foot and sends out a brook, w^hich, after a rocky and 
tortuous course, links itself with the last of the three 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 65 

Stony-Ponds, its mouth being a famous resort for large 
trout. 

The scene was quiet and delightful. Faint cries from 
hawks dotted around a distant fir, touched the ear ; a king- 
fisher, with his purple back gleaming in the light, watched 
the water, from a dry limb; and a little family of black 
ducks steered out from a hollow in the bank and pushing 
through a broad field of lily-pads, made their way diagonally 
down the pond. 

Bingham had just seized his rifle for a shot, when a 
couple of legs appeared, working nimbly under the long 
curve of a boat. The bow being rested on a stump, let 
from under it a man, no other personage than Cort, some- 
what red in the face from his exertions. And here let me 
notice farther the mode of transporting boats practised 
throughout the forest. 

The guide balances his upward-turned craft by a wooden 
yoke clasping the base of his neck, the ends fitting in 
iron rings at the sides of the boat, and the weight also rest- 
ing on his upturned arms. He thus bears his burden over 
the portages of the innumerable waters that make one vast 
Venice of the wilderness. 

When the portage is long, the guide rests himself for a 
moment, by leaning the boat's bow against some tall stump, 
broken sapling or small rock and withdrawing from 
beneath it. 

Our comrades started to fish the mouth of Ampersand 
Brook, but the restless Bingham resolved to visit a beaver 
pond a mile or two off (the knowledge of which had been 
infused into him by Cort) for his favorite sport, deer-hunt- 
ing. He (unlucky Bingham) invited me to accompany 
him and, propelled by Cort's oars, we were soon furrowing 
the mirror of the pond. We crossed ; entered the second 
pond ; skirted on the left a bank of open trees, and passing 
an island fronting a bay, pushed into a creek which twisted 
through a wild meadow. 

" Turkic Island there is a great place for the black 



66 

snappin' turkles," said Cort. " There's a turkle's nest on't 
where the critters lay their eggs. D'ye see that streak o' 
brown sand ? That's where they crawl up from the water." 

We left the boat a short way up the meadow, and 
wading through the long, coarse grass, reached at last a 
wooded point. Here Cort whispered to be " keerful and 
not make the least bit o' noise, for round it, he'd no doubt 
but there was mebby two or three deer feedin'." 

Treading softly, in Indian file, Cort foremost, we rounded 
the point. As usual, in taking the utmost care, my 
unlucky feet would keep cracking all the dry twigs in 
the path ; and it was ludicrous to see Bingham's impatient 
face turned towards me as some crisp snap broke the still- 
ness. I knew I should pay at the camp-fire for every 
crackle, in his stinging jests and provoking raillery; but 
the more gingerly I tried to tread, the more I kept up the 
snapping. 

No deer was in sight ; but another point was ahead, and, 
Indian fashion again, we neared it. 

Crack, crack, snap, snap, crackle, snap. At last, Bing- 
ham lost all patience. 

" Confound you, Smith !" jerking his head alternately 
as he whispered, " has the devil, if I must say so, got into 
— what do you see, Cort ? Heavens ! are those big feet of 
yours shambling around without any control or — do you 
see anything, Cort ? Have all the bones in your body got 
loose — eh, what is it, Cort? Where on earth do you 
manage to find so many twigs to step on !" 

" Hush-sh !" said Cort, who was now peering round 
another headland. The next moment, he beckoned to 
Bingham, who quickly, though quietly, advanced. I fol- 
lowed. In a lily-pad pond, with head and earflaps erect 
and one forefoot lifted, stood a large buck. Bingham 
aimed, but at the critical juncture, my unlucky pedals 
struck another twig — snap — whew ! Didn't that deer run ? 
Bingham fired; but the buck still bounded through the 
scattering lilies. Another shot — this time from Cort — and 



67 
the deer fell. Cort rushed forward with his wood-knife. 



which he carried, like the other guides, sheathed in his 
leathern belt ; and b}^ the time Bingham and I had reached 
him, he had cut the throat of the victim. The ball had, 
however, pierced its heart. 

Bingham looked narrowly at the wound. 

" I say, Cort ! couldn't it have been possible that I hit 
the buck before you did ?" 

" There isn't but one hole there !" answered Cort. 

" Ah, Smith !" said Bingham, shaking his head, " you're 
an unlucky creature, or rather I'm the unluckiest of mor- 
tals in bringing you. I was as sure of that buck as I am 
that you're my evil genius. What on earth got into those 
hoofs of yours ! But no matter now ; let's join the boys 
at Ampersand Brook, or the next thing, I shan't be able 
to get even a trout !" 

Cort swung the deer over his stalwart shoulders and we 
returned to the boat, left the second pond behind and, 
pushing through the long grass and lily-pads of the con- 
necting channel, opened into the third. 

This and the first of these linked sheets of water are a 
mile in diameter and of exquisite beauty ; round, as if 
traced by a compass; rimmed with a belt of snowy sand, 
and ringed with the dark green woods. Not a shape or 
color of decay can be seen on any side. 

The second is much larger and quite irregular. 

The forests were tranced in the morning calm, and the 
pond, as we crossed it, was a reflected picture of blue and 
white. Now we cut through a wreath of pearl and now 
ruffled a b^lt of sapphire. 

" There they are, at the mouth of the Ampersand !" said 
Cort, glancing round. 

" And whipping up the trout like Old Sanko !" added 
Bingham. " Pull away, Cort, and let's have a chance 
among them. Jupiter ! if Renning isn't bringing up a 
two-pounder in that landing-net of his ! Pull, pull, Cort ! 
Good morning, gentlemen. Have you left any trout for a 



68 WOODS AND WATERS ; 

luckless lawyer and one Smith, gentlemen, whose name 
has been adjudged by the Supreme Court to be no name, 
and who would be the life of our party if he could only 
crack jokes as he can twigs ! Why," 

" For heaven's sake, stop that bawling of yours, Bing- 
ham !" exclaimed Eenning, who had just dropped his prize 
with a broken neck, into his boat, " you'd frighten all the 
trout in the universe." 

" And if I did, I'd but follow Smith's example here in 
the way of bucks. What do jou. think, gentlemen ! In- 
stead of 

* Stepping like Fear in a wide wilderness,' 

which, by the way, is a very appropriate line in these old 
woods, he stepped like a cart-horse on paving-stones, and 
the consequence was — I — hem! — have the honor to an- 
nounce that a deer is in the bottom of the boat.' What 
do 3^ou think of opening the day with a fat buck, gentle- 
men? What do you think ?" 

" I think I shall pull out of this place," said Coburn. 
*' Bingham's tongue has got loose again, and the Lord 
knows now when it will stop." 

" Are ye afraid, gentlemen, I shall rival you all in my 
trout exploits also, that you go as soon as I appear ?" re- 
torted Bingham. " However, I'll follow. Smith, please 
get into your own boat. I'll say this of ye, before we part, 
that your feet in size and shape, are more like snowshoes 
than any natural extremities I am acquainted with, and 
make a noise to match." 

Again I found myself in the little Bluebird with my 
friend Harvey, and we all filed into Stony Creek, w^hose 
source lies but a rod or two from the mouth of the Amper- 
sand. 



OB, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 69 



CHAPTER VII. 



stony Creek. — Origin of the Indian Plume. — The Racket River. — Moose Talk 
— Panther Story. — Palmer Brook. — Racket-Falls Camp. 



Stony Creek, or Wahpolichan-igan — its Indian (St. 
Regis) name — flows in a succession of sharp oxbows, three 
miles, into the Racket River, principally through ^vilcl mea- 
dows skirted, at the stream, as is usual, with trees. Among 
these, the most conspicuous are the elm and white or water 
maple; some of the latter, grouped into a score of stems from 
one root. This tree is the Banyan of these woods, and its 
" pillared shade " is one of the most noticeable objects along 
their streams. Particularly along the Racket, is it seen 
clustering its trunks on the grassy banks, coverts for the 
deer and " leafy house " for the birds. 

The Creek was quiet and beautiful, stealing beneath the 
gothic roof of branches in gold-speckled green and some- 
times laughing in open light from the meadows or parks. 
Pointed logs frequently narrowed the channel to a few feet 
in width and sunken trunks now and then stretched entirely 
across, obliging my guide to sink them deeper with his 
paddle for he had abandoned the oars from the continual 
windings. As I sat at the bow, with my eyes half shut, 
steeped in the wild beauty of the scene and shaping some 
chance moulding of leaves and sunshine into an ambushed 
hunter or crouching panther, my attention was at length 
caught by glowing flakes among the dense herbage of the 
low borders. 

" What is that beautiful flower, Harvey ?" 

" That's the Inj in Plume!" 



70 

" The Indian Plume ! A pretty name and most lovely 
flower !" 

It rose in a slender spire of superb scarlet, about a foot 
high, its delicate petals like the geranium's. The plant 
seemed almost to blaze in the sunshine and to kindle into 
ruby light the green nooks where it nestled. 

As I looked at the flower, glowing almost like live coals 
against the grasses of the banks, I shrined it in my memory 
and heard afterward from a St. Kegis Indian, this legend of 
its birth. 

A very long time ago, long before the incidents related 
of the Indian Carrying-Place, Onwee was the Sachem of 
the Saranacs, dwelling by the Stream of the Snake. One 
daughter shone in his lodge, beautiful as a star, and pure 
as a snowflake on the wintry summit of Whiteface. She 
was betrothed to Ka-no-ah, named " The Arrow," from his 
swiftness on the trail, whether of the deer or the foe. All 
went happily, and the life of Len-a-wee or " The Indian 
Plume" was like the mellow days that the Indian Summer 
smiling in the stern face of Winter, breathes in purple mist 
through the wood. But at last, the Demon of the Quick 
Death darkened over her people. Eight and left he swung 
his startling tomahawk, and the white hair — the frolic boy 
— the strong warrior and the blossoming maiden fell alike 
beneath it. All trembled before the viewless foe. Onwee 
bowed his old head and died, and the Swift Arrow was 
launched upon the shadowy trail. The Tribe veiled their 
faces in dread ; Hah-wen-ne-yo was angry with his children. 
In vain the Great Calumet sent its smoke from the lips of 
the Prophet toward His Dwelling-Place. In vain was the 
White Dog slaughtered, to bear upward the sins of the 
people. At last, the old Prophet proclaimed that Hah- 
wen-ne-yo had appeared to him. He came in dazzling 
splendor, one night of lightning, on the top of the Tempest- 
Darer that looks upon the first of the Wampum Waters. 
And thus he said, " Not the breath of the Great Calumet 
and not the blood of the dog of snow will soften my wrath. 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 71 

The warm blood from a human heart will alone appease it. 
That spilled, my smile will again beam upon my chil- 
dren!" 

The old Prophet spoke and deep silence hushed the 
tribe. But a moment after, Len-a-wee glided into the ring 
of warriors ranged around the Prophet on the banks of 
the winding stream. 

" Len-a-wee is a blighted flower;" said she, in her tones of 
music, but now sad as the wail of the wind in the time of 
the falling leaves ; " let the blood of her heart atone for 
the sins of her people !" 

She said, and grasping the knife from the belt of the 
Prophet, darted close to the stream which she and her 
Ka-no-ah had so often skimmed together in their birch 
canoe, and plunged it into her bosom. The red blood 
flowed upon the earth; the keen weapon had cleft her 
heart. Reverently and sorrowfully did the warriors of the 
Tribe raise her in their arms, and solemnly did they lay her 
form by that of Onwee and Ka-no-ah. As the next Morn- 
ing trod through the forest, his golden fingers touched the 
spot which had been stained by the blood of the maiden. 
No blood was there, but instead, a slender flower, red as 
the flush that kindles the cbeek of the Sunset as it sinks 
in the gloom of night. The Demon of the Quick Death 
plied his tomahawk slower and slower from the birth of 
the flower, and soon his presence darkened no more the 
hearts of the people. And ever after, was the flower loved 
by the Saranacs. The warriors twined its blossoms in 
their scalp-locks, the maidens spangled its glowing sparks 
over their tresses of darkness. When the Autumn blighted 
it, they mourned ; when the late Summer told it to bloom, 
they were glad. A feast was instituted in its honor, for it 
glowed in their minds as the emblem of unselfish devotion 
to the common good. 

Another curve of Stony Creek, and, darkening for an 
instant under a log bridge, we came to the junction of 
the stream with the Racket, where two leaning water- 



72 WOODS AND waters; 

maples watched like Dryads the wedding of the lovely 
Naiad. We turned to the left, or eastward, up the river, 
as the last of the other boats, containing Bingham's tall 
form, vanished beyond a bend. 

Broad in comparison with the channel we had just 
quitted (which is about a rod in width), this truly beautiful 
river, like the Saranac Lakes, impresses its character upon 
the region it traverses. Its source is Racket Lake ; 
thence it expands into the Forked and Long Lakes, and 
after flowing one hundred and fifty miles, in two bold sweeps, 
to the north-east and north-west, falls into the St. Lawrence, 
north of its source. From crystal cradle to grass-green 
grave, its shadowy footsteps glide througli an unbroken 
wilderness. I sa}^ unbroken, for the dots of clearings only 
heighten by contrast the general wildness of the scene. 

Its name, as some suppose, is derived from the French 
Canadian hunters, in old times, hunting the moose in winter 
by means of the raquette (the French for snow-shoe), around 
the waters now known as Raquette or Racket Lake. 

Others affirm the name to be taken from a small marsh 
which a Frenchman, accompanying Indians who were 
exploring upward from the river's mouth, thought to be 
shaped like a snow-shoe. 

"But I've al'ys heerd," said Harvey, "the name come 
from the tarnal racket the river keeps up with the falls and 
rifts and what not, on't." 

Its three Indian names are Mas-le-gui (St. Francis), 
Ta-na-wa-deh and ISTi-ha-na-wa-te (both Iroquois), the last 
signifying " full of rapids." 

" We are now 'mongst another set o' waters from what 
we was at the S'nac Lakes," continued Harvey, after he 
had given his idea of the name of the river. " The ridge 
that the Injin Carry runs over, is the dividin' place. The 
Stunny Ponds runs, as you know, by way of the Creek, 
inter the Racket. This ridge, about thirty miles west or 
mebby northwest o' here, turns the Big and Little Wolf 
Pond waters inter the Racket too. On the other side o' 



OK, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 73 

the ridge tlie waters of the Musquiter and Eawlins and 
Floodwood and other ponds round there, go inter the 
Upper S'nac." 

A short distance east, we found the river bending short 
to the south. Two or three miles from the bend, glimpses 
of an opening broke upon us through the foliage of the 
border on our right. 

" Big Meadow," said Harvey. " I'll see if there's a deer 
there." 

He landed, taking his rifle, and ascended the bank, fol- 
lowed by myself The wild meadow contained about a 
hundred acres, moulded into bays by points of wood and 
grouped with groves like islets. Irregular streaks of stem- 
less cedars, like green tents planted on the ground, and 
tamaracks, with their graceful limbs, skirted here and there 
the grassy surface. 

We cast our glances around ; no living shape dis- 
turbed the loneliness. We entered deeper ; and Harvey, 
stopping suddenly at the muddy margin of a thread of 
water, exclaimed — 

"By golly, I raally hed a notion at fust glance this 
track b'longed to a moose," pointing to a large, rounded 
hoof-print stamped in the ooze. " How on airth could 
oxen 'ave strayed out here ! We're miles away from any 
clearin' or where any human critter lives. Let me see ! 
Oh, I hev it ! The lumber people, workin' on Cold Eiver, 
'bove Racket Falls, must ha' drove their oxen 'cross here." 

" Is a moose- track like that of an ox ?" I inquired, as 
we were gliding again upward. 

" It's longer and more peaked. The time has bin 
when I've seen a good many moose- tracks, but not of late 
years. Of'en and of'en, when I was a young man, I've 
hunted 'em on snow-shoes, on the sides of old Tawwus, but 
they've gone, most, from there now." 

" They've gone almost entirely from this region, haven't 
they, Harvey ?" 

" Jest round here, they hev. But in them woods south 

4 



74 

o' Mount Seward, they say they kin be found yit. Them 
woods, though, I don't know nothin' about, nur nobody 
else that I ever see, but the Injun guide, Mitchell Sabatis. 
I dunno but some o' the Keene Mountain trappers, too, 
may go 'long the edges in winter, layin' saple lines on 
snow-shoes. And they finds 'em round at Mud Lake" 

^' I suppose you've shot numbers of them, Harvey, in 
your time ?" 

" You're right, I hev. But they're a terr'ble critter to 
kill." 

'' Why so ?" 

" Oh, they're so farse when they're wounded or brought 
to bay. There isn't no critter in the woods that I wouldn't 
fight, sunner than a moose. A bear or a painter ain't 
nothin' to 'em. I've fit a good many and killed a good 
many and I tell ye, when their blood is up, by goll ! it's 
lively times. They jump at ye with their mane on eend, 
and glarin' as though they'd eat ye up ; and them broad 
horns o' theirn, too, look mighty ugly. You've got to be 
consid'ble smart in dodgin' about the trees and watchin* 
your time to fire, or let 'em hev it with your knife whiles 
the hound tugs at their flanks, or it's kingdom come with 
ye. I've fit 'em when 'twas about an even chance whether 
I should be killed or them. And there's no give up to 'em, 
nuther. They'll fight as long as there's breath left. And 
you take a critter five or six foot high, and weighin' 
eight hunderd or a thousand pounds, with great horns, 
and feet that'll cut into ye like a knife, and you may hev 
a notion it's no child's play fightin' 'em. I've heerd a bull- 
moose roar afore now and was glad he was miles off!" 

" What sort of sound does he make, Harvey ?" 

" Well, I can't scurce tell ye. It's a loud, shrill, ringin', 
twangin' sound, like — I'll tell ye — 'tis more like the 
twangin' of a tin horn than anj^thing I kin think on, and 
kin be heard through the woods a-ringiu' and echoin' fur 
miles." 

" What does the animal feed on ?" 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 75 

" Water-lilies jest like the deer ; but they're more fond 
o' the tap-borers or moose-heads or pick'rel weeds, as some 
calls 'em ; and they say in the woods that the pick'rel 
come from these weeds. They're old hunderd on 'em. 
The big upper lip o' the moose, when it's feedin', goes 
flop, flop, in twistin' in their fud, so that a body kin hear 
it, a mile or more. I remember, one time, at the head o' 
Cold River — 'twas one still night in the airly part o' July. 
Them queer things, the tree-toads, was singin' away — 
quir-r-r-r-r-r, and as for the lightnin' bugs, by golll I 
never see 'em so plenty. Well, I sot in my boat — 'twas 
Little Mary, afore I'd built the Bluebird — and the fust I 
knowed, I heerd, kinder faint-like, that flop, flop, flop. 
The moose was either in a lily-pad pond, more'n a mile off, 
or in the second o' the Preston Ponds not so fur, but over 
a mile at enny rate. They're a big critter and don't do 
things like a mink by a derned sight." 

" You say you would rather meet a panther than an 
angry moose, Harvey !" 

" Pooh ! painters ain't nothin'. I'd about as lieve meet 
a dog as one on 'm. They're a good deal more skeered 
at you than you at them, and '11 run, that is, when they 
ain't got no cubs to fight fur. I've hunted and trapped in 
these woods and fished in these waters about forty-two 
year and I've never seen a tarnal sight on 'em. I've 
camped, too, alone of'en, right under Catamount Peak, 
that lays off in the St. Regis' Woods, nigh the head 
waters of the Upper S'nac, and never even then heerd a 
great many. I remember one time, though. I'd bin trap- 
pin' beaver on a pond right under the Peak and 'ad killed 
a doe and dressed her jest outside my camp. I call it 
camp, but I hadn't no shanty nur tent, unly the ground to 
sleep on. I was alone, unly I hed Watch. Well, I made 
a rousin' big fire, fur 'twas a leetle cold and there'd bin a 
flurry o' snow at sundown. About midnight, I was woke 
up by the dolefullest sounds — well, they was more like a 
woman cryin' out fur help in the woods than anything 



76 WOODS AND waters; 

else — a pitifal, kind o' whinin', wailin' cry. 'Twas comin' 
clusser and classer, and at fust my head was so twistified 
by bein' woke up so sudden, I raally consated some one 
was lost in the woods ; so I sung out and the doleful cries 
stopped right off and I knowed then 'twas a painter. 
Well, I was jest a goin' to turn over and go to sleep agin, 
when Watch begun to show his teeth and growl, and the 
hair on his neck riz up. I couldn't see nothin', and yit, as 
I stared round the camp, I consated I see a blazin' kind o' 
eyeballs nigh the fire. But Watch wouldn't stir, fur the 
catamount would a killed 'im with one blow of his paw. 
Finally at last, I heerd a creep, creep, creep, off through 
the woods, and that was the last on't ; and sun I fell asleep 
agin. But talkin' o' moose : when he's riled or wounded 
or crowded up too cluss, look out fur 'im, that's all. You 
must git out o' his way, fur he won't git out o' yourn, take 
my word for't." 

"I should like to see a moose, Harvey I" 

" I'll take ye to Mud Lake, up Bog Kiver, that comes 
in at the head o' T upper's Lake, where you'll be tol'ble 
sure o' seein' one and p'raps git a shot." 

I expressed myself delighted with this arrangement and 
he resumed. 

" It's a dreary, skeery, dark hole of a place, that Mud 
Lake. There's a wild meader or slew, some ways from it, 
the biggest I ever see. You can't much more 'n look crost 
it, and there's the place where the moose find their feedin'. 
This meader isn't known much. I never knowed but one 
man beside myself that ever spoke on't. Well, I've saw 
the time when I've skeert up in that meader two, or even 
three moose, in a day, and shot one or two on 'em. But it 
can't be done now. Talkin' o' trappin' too. I've ketched 
fisher and mink and saple and black foxes on Tupper's 
Lake, 'twixt sunrise and sundown, enough to kiver the 
little Bluebird all over. But that can't be done now 
nuther; — see how the deer 've turned up old sanko there, 
and no later than last night, too !" pointing to a broad shallow, 



1 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 77 

bristling with the cropped stems and heaped with the tumbled 
pads of the yellow lily, interspersed with the upturned dull 
red leaves of the white. " What say ye for a jack-hunt to- 
night ? There's fust rate slews all along here, up to Racket 
Falls, where we camp for a day or so, as I onderstand !" 

Gladly did I express my readiness, for I had long wished 
to witness this mode of hunting deer. 

These slews {i e. sloughs) are frequent in the forest and 
are either low, marshy spots with narrow streams and 
covered with wild grass which affords pasturage for the deer, 
or shallow basins of water, mantled in water-lilies, of which 
the yellow species is the animal's favorite luxury. The 
principal hours for feeding are from sunset to early morn- 
ing. The day is generally passed by the deer in covert. 

In about an hour, we reached Palmer Brook, a charming 
little stream meandering through the usual wild meadow, 
where trees single and clustered, and shrubbery-like thick- 
ets, all disposed as by the hand of taste, gave the scene not 
only a picturesque but habitable look, so that the eye 
involuntarily wandered to discover the country-seat. 

There we found the whole party landed, with their boats 
drawn up the shore. They had decided to send their three 
hounds out for a drive and were waiting for Harvey to 
bring Watch. 

It was now deep in the afternoon. 

Mart, Will and Cort each led off a hound, to let him 
loose ; my comrades started for their several stations, while 
Harvey and I set out, he leading Watch by his chain. 

We entered the forest, and the old woodman undid the 
collar from the hound, who looked up with his bright, 
intelligent eye, waving his tail delightedly. Harvey 
bade the dog start. Watch bounded off with a yelp and 
then moved in a quick walk, with his nose to the ground. 
After completing a circle, he returned and gazed up at 
Harvey, as if to say, " No deer there." Harvey waved 
him off again, and vaulting logs, threading thickets, search- 
ing bushes and spruce caverns and nosing the underwood 



78 

generally, in another and still wider circle, once more 
lie returned with his mute message as before. A third 
time Harvey sent him away, but a half hour now elapsed 
without the return of the dog. The old guide then turned 
to me and said, 

" The pup has got the trail at last, so we'd best make 
tracks torts the brook again. Bimebv we'll hear him tell 
his luck." 

Returning, we found Coburn at the mouth of the brook ; 
Corey and Little Jess had pushed on to Racket Falls with 
the baggage boats, to prepare the camp before night. 

My station was also at the brook's mouth on my left. 
Beyond, was the runway. 

The scene, — late alive with shapes of hurrying men and 
eager hounds, flitting colors of red and blue hunting-shirts 
and flashes of guns and wood-knives, boats gliding up arid 
down the river to their stations, with loud talk and calls and 
short, joyful yelps, — was now quiet and solitary, with only 
the common sights and sounds of the wilderness. The fal- 
setto of the jay ; the bass note, softened hy distance, of the 
raven ; the harsh cry of the wheeling hawk, the tap of the 
woodpecker, and the pervading monotone of the river, 
soothed the ear and deepened the loneliness. Occasionally 
I hushed my breath for a cry from the hounds, but nothing 
was heard. My boat lay with quiet ripples sparkling 
around its stern, and bushes burying its bow. The sun- 
light glanced from the river, twinkled on the leaves and 
bathed the grass. Minute after minute crept by ; no cry 
from the dogs, no human sound ; my rifle lay idle at my 
knee. Seated near me, on a mound of moss, was Harvey, 
with his rifle also across his knee ; and over a clump of tall 
ferns, close to the borders of the stream, I saw the motion- 
less head and shoulders of Coburn. 

At last, a burst of music from a hound made the woods 
echo. A rifle shot succeeded ; then came a fainter yelping, 
followed by another report, dull and lengthened, down the 
river. 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 79 

Soon Bingham and Cort appeared, skimming down the 
Eacket, the face of Bingham radiant with pleasure, and Cort 
rowing with buoyant speed. As the boat came nearer, I 
saw a buck at the bottom and Watch curled at the bow. 

" I fixed him this time !" shouted Bingham, " Eight 
through the heart, or I'm a humbug ! By goll !" landitig, 
" as old Harvey here says, it was a splendid sight ! How 
Watch yelled and how the deer flew ! And how he 
stopped too — and fell — right flat in his tracks ! But I sup- 
pose it will be all Cort, Cort, at the camp-fire. Eenning 
will say, in that confounded cool way of his, ' Why, of 
course, Cort shot the deer ; who doubts it !' And then 
Gaylor will say, ' There's one thing Bing can't do ; he 
can't shoot I' And then you, Coburn and Smith here, will 
chime in. Well, I've heard such before. But it doesn't 
affect me ! I tower above it all, ' like some tall cliff' — Ah, 
here comes Gaylor and Eenning — and — hang me if 
there isn't — yes — there is — a deer, by Jupiter! in Gay's 
boat ! Well now I call this last superfluous. It's really 
robbing the forest ! Of course, Gaylor," as the last party 
landed, " you shot the deer, and not Will." 

" Of course I shot him," responded Gaylor in a cheery 
tone. " There's one in your boat, I see. When did Cort 
shoot him ?" 

'* There it is I" said Bingham. " But I shall enter into no 
controversy on the subject. I shall merely mention I shot 
him and say no more." 

" Ha, ha, ha !" exploded from the whole company. 

" Oh laugh away !" said Bingham, taking a seat. 
" There's the buck though, and here's the tool," slapping 
his rifle, "that did the business. Cort! hand me my 
flask !" 

After enjoying the quiet and leafy beauty of Palmer 
Brook, a little while longer, we all moved gaily up toward 
Eacket Falls, which we reached at sunset. We found the 
tents pitched and the camp-fire kindled upon an elevated 
point or headland, on the east bank, at the foot of the 



80 WOODS AND WATERS; 

falls or rather rapids, the foam of which gleamed red among 
the scattered rocks. 

The tents stood in a grassy space, with a background of 
firs and cedars intermingled with the birch, aspen and 
maple. One large white pine towered on either side, with 
one near the front of the headland looking upon the 
Eacket, which glided swift and dark, with large blots of 
foam from the falls, whirling and loosening in their downward 
way. In one corner, a tamarack hung its beautiful foliage. 

The opposite shore rose into an acclivity, with here and 
there a dry pine like a flag-stafi*, above the verdure, and 
fluttering with pennons of grey moss. Paths meandered 
from the headland (which was a well-known camping-spot) 
down to the river on either side and into the background 
of forest. 

After our usual meal, we disposed ourselves for a genial 
smoke before the crackling camp-fire. 

The lucent gold of the twilight tinged the scene and 
vanished ; the dusk darkened into night. 

A breeze crept through the high woods opposite ; above 
me, the white pine, that tree of sorrow, heaved its long deep 
sigh, and the low crashings of the rapids filled the air. 
Ealph and Gay lor had left to lie down in the tent, the 
grassy floor of which had been spread deep by the 
guides with mattresses of hemlock. Coburn had taken his 
seat on the end of a log, close to the camp-fire, to smoke 
and cogitate perhaps his next speech in Congress (as he 
was a member and a powerful speaker), while I had gone 
aside to observe, if not also to meditate. 

At first, my eye was caught by the camp-fire shedding its 
gloss in a wide circle over the grass blades, brakes and tiny 
wood-sprouts, cutting the nearest trees into gigantic yellow 
cameos on a sable background and touching with wild scar- 
let the black river below ; the dark figures of the guides 
flitting athwart the flame like goblins, with Coburn shown 
in sharp relief, his countenance fixed and arm slightly 
raised as if thrusting an argument upon " Mr. Speaker," 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 81 

and the sparks whirling through the smoke like fiery 
insects. 

1 thought then of the vast expanse of this sea-like wil- 
derness, almost unchanged since its creation, and of the 
wild freedom of that savage life known upon our continent 
before the " White Throats" came. I asked myself whe- 
ther man has gained greater happiness with his boasted 
civilization. Do all the trophies won by that civilization, 
its treasures of science, its enchanted realms of painting, 
poetry, sculpture, music, eloquence, its elegancies and 
luxuries, outweigh its sufferings, cares and crimes, the 
daily anxieties and toils and battles for its miscalled prizes ; 
its galling conventionalities, its scourging necessities, its 
malignant rivalries, its treacherous smiles — real ability fail- 
ing where grinning trickery succeeds ; mere poverty de- 
spised and mere gold adored ; genius trampled beneath the 
hoofs of pompous dulness; frank honesty supplanted by 
wary villany ; right throttled by the ruffian hand of power ; 
all these, the rank weeds that choke the hotbed of our arti- 
ficial existence ? I, for one, am sick of the griefs and strifes 
and follies of the world. Oh men ! when will ye cease to 
torture and crush your fellow-men ? Thy wailing winds, 
oh earth ! are but the echoes of our human sighs, thy very 
throes the emblems of our agonies ! 

Here, thought I once more, would I live ; here, in this 
fresh, free wilderness, this tranquil realm of content, where 
honor is not measured by success, where pretension does 
not trample upon merit, where genius is not a jest, good- 
ness not a seeming and devotion not a sham. Here, where 
the light of day is undarkened by wrong, where solitude is 
the parent of pure meditation and the solitude is eloquent 
of God. Here would I live, listening the forest's calls to 
self-communing, and all those teachings that guide the in- 
sight, soften the heart, and purify, while they expand, the 
soul. 



4* 



82 



CHAPTER YIII. 

Floating for Deer. — Night Scenery on the Racket. — Owls. — A Camp Scene. 

I WAS awakened from mj reverie by the voice of Harvey 
at my side. 

" Come, Mr. Smith I it's about time now for our night- 
hunt, and a rael inkstand of ^ night 'tis, too, dark and not 
windy; and I think one deer, ef not two, 's jest about 's 
good 's dead. Ready ?" 

I slipped on my overcoat and grasped a blanket to 
defend my knees against the chill of the night air. At the 
boat I found Corey, who was to go with us as marksman 
(as I had had little experience with the rifle), while Harvey 
was to handle the paddle. The latter duty required con- 
summate skill, which the old boatman proved himself 
to possess. He seated himself in the stern while Corey 
took the oars ; I sat in the middle, and the Bluebird 
skimmed rapidly down the river, a bend of which soon 
hid the camp-fire. 

Our jack was a semicircular piece of birch bark, painted 
dark; the top and bottom of wood, with two oil lamps 
behind a glass front, and planted on a wooden handle at the 
prow. It was not yet lighted. 

The black woods looked threatening, but the water, 
although dark, seemed more companionable sprinkled with 
the stars, and even the wilderness did not appear entirely 
abandoned, with the same dots of light glittering among the 
breaks in the gloom. 

Nor was the solitude completely silent. Kow and then 
came the chirp of some bird startled by our oars, while the 
owl's prolonged hoo hoohoo, hoo hoohoo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 83 

ah, rounding into a, deep-tliroated, peevisli caw, frequently 
came on the ear. 

Here and there a skeleton tree, leaning over, made a 
thick black streak in the air, or a protruding branch dropped 
an arch, while dark bulks told the margin logs. 

" We're nigh Palmer Brook," at length said Harvey, in 
a guarded voice. " I forgot to put ile in the lamps or trim 
'em to-day, so we'd best land to light up the jack, hadn't 
we?" 

We landed on the steep bank, in a cavern of the foliage. 
We had not much more than entered it, however, before my 
face and hands broke out as it were into an intolerable 
tickling. 

" Whew, the flies is comin'," said Corey. " How quick 
they smell a feller out ! Plague take these mitchets ; but 
we'll fix 'em, skeeters and all !" 

The charges of these winged lancers were indeed terrible. 
They, the mixed legion of musquitoes and gnats or midges, 
are the serious annoyance of the summer woods. They 
seem to lie in wait, and the moment one ventures from 
the boat on shore, they swarm in myriads ; like fire on 
invisible ink, your very coming strikes the atmosphere into 
gnats and musquitoes. 

If you open your mouth, in they go ; if you inhale 
through your nose, up they go ; they play an unceasing 
fife to the drum of your ear, and dart in as if to assault 
your brain. Just as you motion to slap your forehead, 
there is a quick sting on your temple, and you don't 
know which to slap first. If you rub your cheek — 
w-h-i-z-p — there is a terrific bite on your eyelid. You 
crush the sight out of your optics with a finger that 
has three little fiends tacked to it; you try to rub both 
your prickling hands at once, while your elbows are 
suffering; you shrug your shoulders and begin to wrig- 
gle your back in your shirt, at the same time your 
legs are twitching as if in a galvanic battery ; in short, 
you are defending the tip of your nose, while the 



84 

aggregate flesli of your body is creeping off your 
bones. 

*'Yes, yes! we'll fix 'em!" repeated Corey, as he and 
Harvey gathered the materials of combustion at the foot of 
a pine tree. Soon a snapping blaze was licking the rough 
bark, bringing out the immense tree from its dark back- 
ground and tinging the leaves and stems around into ruddy 
gold. With the light flickering over their persons, the 
two guides then prepared the jack, kindled it, and we re- 
embarked, leaving the fire to burn down, like a red eye- 
ball alternately winking and glaring in the darkness of the 
bank. 

Corey examined his rifle, to see if all was right, then 
seated himself directly behind the jack, so as to front the 
water, with his weapon across his lap. 

A red glare played upon the shore and the stream ahead, 
while the boat remained in deep shadow. The unnatural 
light dazzles and bewilders the deer, which frequent the 
banks and shallows and particularly the sloughs, at night, 
to feed upon the water-lilies, and it strikes them motionless, 
the boat and its occupants being concealed in gloom. They 
stand gazing out from the dark background, quite 
covered with the light, affording a near and generally 
fatal shot. 

The boat seemed now to glide of its own volition, Har- 
vey drawing his paddle so still, as not to wake even the 
whisper of a bursting bubble. Once dipped, the paddle is 
not withdrawn, but worked by the wrist and elbow noise- 
less as the fin of a fish. 

As I hushed my breath while thus borne along, there 
was a weird effect fi-om the glide, making me feel, with 
Hecate, 

" Oh, what a dainty pleasure 'tis, 
To sail i' the air!" 

The water-flies entering the glare of the jack-light glit- 
tered like specks of gold. As the broad crimson gleam 



mi 



85 

startled up tlie banks, a gigantic shadow seemed to chase 
the boat and swallow the trees, touching them first, then 
meandering over the branches down to their very tips. 

The red beams flitted athwart the bushes and water- 
plants of the margin near us and turned the bushes into 
moving gold, upon which and the gleaming lily-pads, we 
would rustle suddenly, as suddenly leaving for the still 
water. A quick dropping shot of splashes in the shallows 
told the " plops " (one of Harvey's Saranac words) of the 
startled muskrats, as they tumbled into the water from the 
logs and borders. Their little black heads spotted the 
water all around in the jack's radiance, vanishing when out 
the stream of light, with the quickness of thought. 

We were now gliding across the opening of Palmer 
Brook. Suddenly I heard a slight rustling close to the 
bank and then two or three light, paddling sounds in the 
water. Corey raised his rifle and motioned toward a black 
thicket. The boat glided up, as if sentient. The click of 
Corey's springing gunlocks followed ; I saw two spots of 
pale fire in front of an immense black tree ; Corey caught 
his weapon to an aim ; the figure of a deer, motionless as 
a sculptured image, with head turned toward the jack, 
started out ; a rifle-crack ; the deer sank ; the boat shot to 
the bank and Corey, drawing his wood-knife, leaped out. 
The deer scrambled up, fell and then lay motionless. 

" It's down among the rushes O ! with that ven'son 1" 
said Harvey, laughing. 

" 'Tisn't nothin' else !" answered Corey, dragging the doe 
into the boat, with her throat cut. " I sent her my 'spects 
right 'twixt her eyes 1" 

" Old hunderd, and all the folks jine in I" cried Harvey. 
" Now for the slews below," singing, 

• " oil, Susy was her name ! 

Sich a purty little dame — zip 1" 

Again we were skimming along the margin, Harvey 



m WOODS AND WATERS; 

dipping without care, as no feeding-places were afforded by 
the bolder shores now presented. 

The ripples clinked along the sides of the boat in the 
quiet, like little, muffled bells, and I heard the gulp or gut- 
tural yelp of a frog, sounding like a blow on a tree, awaken- 
ing an echo. 

At length the dash of the paddle and ripple-taps at the 
prow stopped and we were again gliding along, with the 
stillness of death. Core}^ would motion first with one hand 
and then the other and the boat would, as if human, obey. 
Now it turned and stole into a little cove, looking this way 
and that with its broad, red glance, like a Chinese candle- 
bug, and then it drew itself backward and resumed its 
course. Now it felt along an opening, glided beside a 
pavement of lily-pads, pushed its face into a space of rushes 
or crept athwart a cluster of alders. Often, some dark 
object seemed to me a deer, but the light turned it into a 
small rock or an immense log foreshortened or an up- 
turned root. Occasionally there would be a splash or 
paddling near the margin, but Corey would whisper, " a 
bullfrog" or " a muskrat." 

At length, we turned into a basin of lily-pads. 

" Loon Slew," whispered Harvey. 

On we rustled ; the newness, the picturesqueness, the 
romance of the entire scene delighted me. Gliding as if by 
magic over these wild waters, hemmed in by the trackless 
forest ; not a human creature (but our own party) probably 
within leagues of us ; not one human habitation , the stars 
our only watchers ; my two companions, inhabitants of the 
wilderness, caring for or knowing little else than its sports 
and laughing at its hardships; the whole, presenting such 
utter contrast to my usual experience of life, impressed me 
with the profoundest interest. 

We had now approached a low point covered with tall, 
dense thickets. The jack-light played upon the edges but 
failed to penetrate the interior. Corey raised his hand as 
if warning us to perfect stillness. A light, quick smack- 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 87 

ing or chopping sound within the alders — an animal feed- 
ing ! Corey raised himself cautiously ; the sound ceased 
but was instantly resumed. He peered on this and then 
on that side the jack ; swung it either way ; then motioned 
now on one side, now on the other, the boat turning as if 
chained to his gestures. At last, another light, paddling 
sound came, then a trickle or two of drops. Corey aimed 
with lightning quickness, but with the motion a loud start- 
ling huh-h-u-u-u, huh-huh rose from the thickets, followed 
by a rapid crash through them. As if the first sounds 
were signals, three more like them burst from the shore, a 
rod or two from us. Light boundings were heard ; a few 
moments elapsed and then for some distance within the 
forest, echoed the same thick, fierce sounds between a snort 
and a scream, only fainter. 

" Confound 'em !" said Corey, in a tone of vexation. 
" Five whistles and every deer off I" 

" And no leave axed," added Harvey. " But let's try 
the other places below ! Them deer by this time is mindin' 
their own business. ' Ef it's all the same to you,' says they, 
' we'll bid ye good evenin' ; we don't like no sich company !' 
But didn't they whistle !" 

Making our way out of the slough, to the nsual terror of 

the frogs and muskrats, who were " floppin' and ploppin' 

; and poppin' and squigglin' " (whatever that was), as Harvey 

I said, all around, we once more glided down the river. 

' We passed several low openings, which the Bluebird 

swept with her searching eye, but fortune had deserted us ; 

no more deer were seen ; no sounds were heard that told 

even of their vicinity. 

" The deer bas all gone to night meetin'," said Harvey, at 
last. " I felt quite sarten of one, at Moose Slew, but 'taint 
no more go. 'Spos'n we turn back to camp, Corey ! Shell 
we, Mr. Smith ?" 

The boat's direction was accordingjy changed up stream. 
The same caution was still observed but it was fruitless. 
By the wheel of the magic paddle, the little Bluebird would 



88 

turn her gaze full in front of the openings and sweep tliem 
with red scrutiny, but nothing was seen across the flat ex- 
panses. Wheeling her great eyeball half round again, 
onward the boat would steal, bringing the various dark 
objects of the shore into momentary crimson life. Up 
Loon Slough once more we moved, starting out over the 
rustling surface, as if by an enchanter's wand, the stemmed 
balls of the yellow lilies with their broad, glistening leaves, 
but we could hear or discern nothing that showed a deer 
had even visited the spot. We reached the point. The 
bushes moved gently in the faint night breeze ; but there 
was no sound upon the bank, no ripple on the water. 

Out of the slough again we glided. 

" I guess the deer has all gone to bed !" said Harvey at 
length, giving a plunge with his paddle. " There's no use 
tryin' any longer, so we'll git on to camp as fust as we 
kin ; hey, Corey ! What say ye, Mr. Smith ?" 

"Yes!" answered Corey, "let's git out o' this, jest as 
soon as we kin go. For my part I'm tired o' lookin' 
without seein'. Hang the deer say I !" 

I was also in favor of moving camp-ward, as the air was 
increasing in its damp chilliness, and every limb felt 
cramped in keeping my position with such entire quietude ; 
so we turned and pulled rapidly up the river; Corey 
extinguishing the jack and betaking himself once more to 
the oars. 

Again came the distant hoot of the owl floating over the 
dark silence. 

" Shut up there !" exclaimed Corey. " What d'ye think 
we care for you !" 

" Them owls is a sassy thing ; them and loons," said Har- 
vey, lighting his pipe with a match. " They seem to hev 
a notion nobody haint no business in the woods but them." 

" I tell ye, shut up and mind yer business !" said Corey, 
as another hooting was heard, but this time appearing to 
come from a considerable distance. "If I hear another 
word, I'll give ye a bullet to feed on.'* 



OE, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 89 

" How can you shoot him, Corey ?" said I. " He must 
be, from the sound, certainly a quarter, if not half a mile 
away." ~ 

" He isn't twenty rods !" replied Corey ; " that's a way 
the critters hev of hootin' in their throat so as to seem a 
long way off, when they're close by." 

" That's a true bill," chimed in Harvey. " And they're 
just the revarse o' wolves. Let them howl and you'd 
think yourself nigh enough to look down their throats 
a'most, when they're mebby so fur off they couldn't smell 
ye, if their noses was as long as pine-trees. They'll go 
y-o-w-1, y-o-w-1, one beginnin' fust and the rest strikin' in, 
jest as they sing in meetin', when the parson lines the 
hymn." 

" Hear that owl snap his jaws !" said Corey, as a click- 
ing sound in front met my ear. " Look !" continued he, 
after the boat had moved a few rods, " there he stands !'* 
pointing to a dry tree leaning over the water a short dis- 
tance before us. Sure enough, there, dimly seen, was a 
large bird perched on the top of the tree and shaking his 
head sidewise and up and down, like a political orator in 
a paroxysm of patriotism. 

" He don't appear to mind us much," said L 

" They're the sassiest " Harvey was commencing, 

when another hoo hoo, broken short hy the report of 
Corey's rifle, intervened. Whether it was the jar I gave 
the boat in my desire to see, or carelessness on Corey's 
part, from being too sure of his aim, the bird, instead of 
tumbling dead as I expected, glided away smooth and 
noiseless as thistle-down, gleaming for a moment in the 
light, and then swallowed in the gloom. 

" These stump speakers can't always be killed off, Corey I" 
I observed. 

" Specially when the place you shoot from plays teter !" 
said Corey in a slightly vexatious tone. " But no matter, 
misfortins will happen." 

" In the best regilated fam'lies," added Harvey. 



90 



Tootle too loo, too loo, too looty, 

Tootle loo — whew, whew, whe — whew whew"- 



a sudden crack sounded, and then a dull, reverberating 
report. 

" A tree fallin'," said Corey, as I gave a slight start. 
" They'll fall sometimes in the woods without any warnin', 
jest as human bein's will in apoplex." 

" That's so," said Harvey. " I've bin out afore now, 
and a tree that looked jest as sound as a trout 'ud give a 
quick skrick like, as a deer'll bleat when tackled by the 
hounds, and then fall with a most onraassyful noise. It 
takes a two-hoss petty fogger to git out o' the way." 

At this moment came the most singular sound I ever 
heard. It was a sharp whine, half smothered in a thick 
wheeze, or a loud hiss with a fine whistle cutting through 
it, like an exhausted blacksmith's bellows or a person 
breathing in an asthma. 

" What on earth is that, Corey ?" asked I. 

" It's a young owl tryin' to whistle !" answered he, "and 
a rael doleful sound 'tis. It sounds as if his throat was 
dry, and he couldn't pucker his mouth." 

" It sounds as if he had the phthisic," said Harvey, 
*' and was tryin' to breathe through a holler knittin'- 
needle." 

A hollow, choking ubble-bubble now sounded close at 
hand. 

" There's somebody drowning there in the river, boys I 
do make haste — quick !" 

But the " boys" only laughed. 

" That's another of the owls agin ; the big horned critters, 
or cat owls, as they're called," said Corey. 

" An owl again!" exclaimed I ; " why, how many noises 
do the creatures make ?" 

" As many a'most as ridin' skimington," answered 
Harvey. " Sometimes they'll screech like a catamount ; 
then they'll whine like an old woman at camp-meetin'. 
Another sounds like a bell — a leetle owl, not much bigger'n 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 91 

a couple o' white lilj'-blows. Another sounds for all the 
world like the whet-whet of a saw — and that isn't a great 
sight bigger'n a pine-knot. I've heerd some bark like a 
dog, some mew like a cat, and spit 'pit 'pit they will and 
snarl and growl as ugly as Satan. Others agin '11 c-r-y out 
so doleful, you'd think they had the belly-ache. Others 
agin '11 whu-i-stle clear as a nigger. They're great hands 
to steal, too, 'specially the big horned ones. I've seen 'em 
spyin' round my traps for what they could git, time and 
agin. And I've ketched 'em tearin' rats they've found in 
traps all to pieces, and lookin' farse as wild-cats." 

" What do they live on ?" 

" Well, ducks, and patridges, and dead fish ; the last is 
old hunderd to 'em. I've seen 'em skim cluss to the 
ground, and then fall quick as a wink on a squirrel, or 
muskrat, or rabbit, mebby. I've shot, afore now, and 
wounded 'em, and they'd throw themselves on their back, 
and lift up their long, black claws, and snap their beaks, 
and wink their round eyes, they would, and sw-e-1-1 like a 
big puff-ball. They're all sorts o' colors, too, grey and 
brown, and white and brindle ; and one kind's red at fust, 
as ef 'twas singed by the camp fire, and then grows mottled 
like. This 'ere makes sounds like a body's teeth a-chat- 
terin' and clickin' t'gether with the cold. The fust time I 
heerd one I couldn't think what on airth 'twas. I looked 
round and round, and finally at last I see the leetle red 
sarpent a p-e-ie-kin' out of a holler low down in a maple, 
lookin' like a konkus on a pine-tree." 

We now glided along in silence past the grim, ghostly 
trees. I almost fancied we were spectres flitting through a 
phantom scene, bound in a spell, and I feared to draw 
breath lest I should break it, and incur some dreadful 
punishment. Now and then I imagined the darkness 
gathering into a vast demon, and threatening to whelm us 
in the gloom of his frown ; sometimes I thought the sombre 
walls on each side were closing to annihilate us. 

Suddenly another hissing was heard, but this time accom- 



92 

panied with a sound between a snarl and a snore. It filled 
the woods in the stillness, until I thought it might be the 
demon napping on his lonely vigil. 

Corey clattered one of the oars, and immediately, with a 
keen shriek, a large black object burst from the shore, and 
sailing over our heads, became lost in the darkness. 

" An eagle," said Corey, unconcernedly. " He was 
sleepin' ; and though he snores like a nor'wester, the least 
leetle sound '11 wake him, and off he goes." 

A sudden light now gleamed from the gloom in front, 
and Harvey exclaimed — 

" Here we are cluss to camp. I'm glad on't ; my j'ints 
feel rayther creaky in the damp air so long!" Then 
croaking : 

" And it's are you-u-eu Macdon-ald, returned to Glenco-o-o 
Oh I it's hung on my — hay! hul-lo !" — 

At this instant there came out of the camp the voices 
of Eenning and Gaylor raised in a song. I could hardly 
believe my ears, as I knew they had no more idea 
of music than a brace of loons. And yet, there they 
were, tangling their voices together in an ear-splitting 
discord of — 

" Some love to roam 
O'er the wild sea foam. 
Where the shrill winds whistle free ! 

But a mountain la — (No, Ralph, you're wrong.) 
But a chosen band, 
In a mountain land, 
And a life in the woods (a tremendous roar) for me 1 
Oho ho oh 1 ho, ho, ho, ho ! 

But a chosen ba — (No, no, not yet, Ralph.) 
Oho oh oh ! ho, ho, ho, ho-o-o-o ! 

(Like the blast of a cracked trumpet.) 
But a chosen band, 
(With a clap, as if they had joined hands in eternal friendship.) 
In a mountain land, 
And a life in the woods for (clear up in the air) me." 

(With a sudden drop into a long groan.) 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 93 

" That last sound 's a good deal like tlie c-a-w-w-w of one 
of them owls we've bin speakin' about," said Harvey. 
" I've knowed my two tom-cats sing better 'n that." 

" I've got two b'ys to hum," said Corey, " that kin beat 
that noise on a couple o' punkin vines." 

The two singers recommenced — 

*' Some love to" 

I had now reached the camp, and the fire revealed me 
to them. They were seated on one end of a green log, the 
other end lying in the camp-fire, and smoking like a huge 
calumet. 

The song broke off short. 

" Why, Smith, is that you ?" said Eenning. " Come, 
take a punch. By the way, what luck have you had ?" 

" We've one deer !" 

" Good. I may say very good. But I don't care much 
for deer-shooting. Give me trout (loudly, and clutching 
the air with a swing) eh, Gay ?" 

" Certainly," returned Gay lor. 

" Trout ! that's the word — trout ! Come, Smith, take a 
punch : a moderate punch ! But I say, Smith, put me in 
a boat, and Gay, here, in his, and you in a third : no, not 
you ! you can't catch trout : but Bingham : no, nor Bing 
either : he's only down on deer. Well — we'll say Coburn, 
that is, if he wasn't so afraid of the flies I But the truth 
is. Smith, the flies are rather bad in the woods. They do 
bite, old boy ! sometimes better than the trout — and as I 
was saying, put me and Gay in our boats, and — who- 
ever you've a mmd to, I don't care a fig — at Half Way 
Brook, down there on the Racket, or at Redside Brook, on 
Tupper's Lake ; wouldn't we have lively times there with 
the trout ? from one pound to two, eh. Gay ?" 

" Precisely !" 

" The punch is in the pitcher, by the partridges there, 
Smith. Isn't that good punch ? Stop ! I'll take a little I 



94 WOODS AND "WATERS 



Gaylor and I have been so busy conversing, we quite 
forgot the punch— eh, Gray ?" 

'"^ Umph !" said Gaylor. 

" Talking of punch," resumed Ralph, " Gay, here, makes 
the best" 

"Hold your jacklight a little more around, Cort I" a 
loud voice here broke in, which we recognised as Bing- 
bam's, sounding from the woods a little above. " It 
appears to be a sort of * facilis descensus Averni' here, Cort ! 
—in other words, a most diabolical mud-hole. Lord, one 
of my boots is gone ! Ah I here it is, all right ! Hurrah, 
there, Cort, come back a moment ! your long legs don't 
recognise the difficulties of a pair not brought up in the 
woods. I've lost the path to the camp, and I'm down here 
b} the river. These woods are ' a mighty maze,' and 
deucedly ' without a plan,' and in the night time the3^'re a 
good deal * like the light,' as Byron says, ' of a dark eye in 
woman'— that is, the dark with the light left out. Ah I 
here we are! Good evening, gentlemen. What! are ye 
thieves of the night, cutpurses, that you sit up so late ?" 

" What have you got?" asked Ralph, laconically. 

" Got I a pair of barked shins and a cold, I'm afraid, on 
this confounded river 1" 

" Where's your deer, Bing ?" said Gaylor. 

" Deer !" repeated Bingham ; " I don't believe there's 
a deer on the Racket. Here we've been floating from the 
head of the falls, up as far as Moose Creek ; into the Creek 
for a mile, and back again, and I pledge you my word 
there are no more signs of deer to be found than of com- 
mon sense in our friend Smith, here. There were signs of 
musquitoes, though. In fact, I may say, my face is one 
great sign. Every pore is a bite. But there's an awful 
smell of punch here. It truly 

" 'Wastes its sweetness on the desert air.' " 

*' You'll find some in the pitcher there," said Ralph. 
" Help yourself That's the way we did." r. 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 95 

" So I should think," said Bingham, looking into the 
pitcher at the camp fire ; " and ' we' have helped ourselves 
so thoroughly, the pitcher is as dry as a President's mes- 
sage. Why, you must have used a forcing-pump here ! 
there isn't even a seed left. Cort, make me a glass of 
punch !" sitting down on a log. 

" So you found no deer, Bing!" said Gaylor. 

" Deer, poh, deer ! Why not say elephants, hippopo- 
tami ? One can find the last as well as the first in these 
woods. Take my word for it, gentlemen, there's no deer 
here. I shall certainly go to Maine next year, if I have 
to go alone. You can there — why, Cort, what on earth is 
in this punch ? it's as black as old Harvey's tom-cat," hold- 
ing the cup containing it at the camp-fire. 

" I ax your pardon, Mr. Bingham," said Cort aghast, 
" but I do bleeve I've mixed it in the cup that had black 
pepper in't." 

" Black pepper I" said poor Bing, clapping his hand to 
his stomach, " gunpowder, you mean ; and from the heat 
in my throat and all the way down, I think it has exploded 
there. Black pepper, Cort, is good iu its place, but it's 
confounded bad in the place it has got to now !" 

Gajdor and Kenning soon after this went to their tent, 
whither Coburn had gone early ; the guides sought lairs 
in the thickets, preferring them to the close air of the lesser 
tent. Bingham, after giving birth to a diabolical yawn, 
followed his comrades, and I was alone. 

The black river below ; the dark bank in front ; the 
murky woods around ; the hollow rush of the falls; the 
hoot of a neighboring owl and the distant cry of a wolf 
— a long drawn melancholy cry — all made a scene of the 
deepest solitude. Man ! how far off he appeared and how 
near God I 

The wilderness is one great tongue, speaking constantly 
to our hearts ; inciting to knowledge of ourselves and to 
love of the Supreme Maker, Benefiictor, Father. Not in 
the solitude of the desert, nor on the mighty ocean do we 



96 

more deeply realize the Great Presence that pervades all 
loneliness. Here, with the grand forest for our worship- 
ping temple, our hearts expanding, our thoughts rising un- 
fettered, we behold Him, face to face. 

I walked to the end of the point ; I surrendered myself 
to the influence of the hour and the scene. From the 
starry heavens and the solemn landscape, breathed the 
Invisible Presence ; and from the depths of my heart rose 
an inspiration of unbounded faith and love. And I knew 
I was immortal — I knew, despite the sin and weakness of 
my wrecked humanity, I was still in some poor measure 
one with Deity. 



OKj THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 97 



CHAPTEK IX. 



Cany at Racket Falls. — Up the Racket. — Cold River. — Bowen's Camp. — 
Long Lake. — The River Driver. — Harvey's Woods- Almanac. 



We rose with the sun for an excursion up the river, 
to the foot of Long Lake (Wee-cho-bad-cho-nee-pus, lake 
abounding in bass-wood), belonging to the Eacl^et System 
of waters. 

As I awoke, a path of gold gleamed into the tent through 
an aperture in front left for air. 

Upon the sun-streaked space before it, the camp-fire was 
merrily blazing, and around were the guides busy for the 
breakfast, the first symptom of which appeared as I left the 
tent, in a gridiron grinning at a gaping lake trout, as if 
anticipating the lively broil to which it would shortly put 
him. 

The scene was fresh and cheerful. The tips of the white 
pines, and the upper rim of the bank opposite, were of a 
yellow burnish ; a brown, decayed stump, against which 
stood a jack, a neck-yoke and a landing net, looked mellow 
and rich in the light, and the stem of a silver birch, touched 
by a finger of the sun, gleamed like a pillar of pearl. 

A carry of a mile and a half led around the falls over a 
steep ridge. 

Each guide, except Corey (who, with Jess, remained to 
keep the camp), shouldered his boat, and up through the 
fresh, odorous woods, we moved over an undulating track, 
a foot in width, with the accompanying music of the rapids 
and forest. The guides strode steadily on, with firm and 
even buoyant step ; around huge roots, over prone trunks, 

5 



98 

and througli tangling underbrush, although the burden upon 
them was over six score pounds. 

We passed the Titanic pine, with its long tassels ; the 
hemlock, with its stiff fringes ; the pointed cedar poised on 
the ledge and clinging to the cleft ; the dense cones of the 
spruce; the perfect pyramid and finger-like apex of the 
balsam fir; the maple, the beech, the birch, with their 
varieties and differing hues ; the streaked moose-wood ; the 
low-branched hopple ; hundreds of seamed columns around, 
a firmament of foliage above ; sprouts, herbs and plants, 
ferns and mosses, lichened rocks, tall thickets, low bushes 
and creeping vines forming the floor; the whole scene 
bewildering the eye and stimulating the fancy. 

The landscape, too, was full of life. A wandering breeze 
put all the leaves in a flutter ; the golden- winged wood- 
pecker, with an upward slide, clutched the bark of some 
old tree and rattled with his black beak till echo laughed 
again ; the raven winnowed his sable shape over the tall- 
est trees ; the ground squirrel made a brown streak across 
the green log ; and the rabbit, jerking his long ears, bounded 
athwart our winding track. 

At the summit of the ridge we found the remains of a 
camp but lately deserted ; the black remains of the fire, 
and the beds of hemlock boughs showing the locality of the 
tent A deer's head lay under a neighboring thicket, with 
its brush lodged in the leaves ; and a large trout, freshly 
dressed, hung from a forked stick in the dead leaves, where 
it had probably been forgotten. We respected, however, 
the law of the woods, which says, " Thou shalt not touch 
thy neighbor's traps, nor his venison, nor his trout, nor 
anything which is his, not even a jack-knife." Every- 
body honors that law. In the loneliest shanty, the hunter 
may find a rifle, a fishing rod, a haunch of venison, a 
basket of fish, and, lawless as he may be otherwise, he 
thinks no more of disturbing it than if the owner were 
present. 

There is another law. Every empty cabin is taken pos- 



99 

session of for tlie time being as if the intruder were the law- 
ful occupant. 

We descended to the head of the falls, and launching our 
boats, moved up the river sparkling before us like a track 
of diamonds. The trout leaped into the light like a 
flying fish ; the duck rose with a splash and shot before 
us ; the brown heron spread his wide sails from the 
sandy islet. Sprinkles of hawks were pin-pointed around 
a dry pine in the background ; a flock of blue jays scolded 
in a near clump of trees ; and a black eagle swept lessening 
over the rolling surface of the woods, alighting at length 
on a hemlock, like a musquito on a finger. 

We presently came to a beautiful headland of open trees 
and luxuriant grass scattered with firs and cedars. Near 
it, was a wild meadow, softened and smoothed over with 
such a rural home-look that I almost bent my ear to hear 
the sheep-bell, and glanced to see the boy ride the farm- 
horse in his rattling harness to water. 

At Cold Brook we stopped to fish, as also at the mouth 
of Moose Creek, and soon after we reached Clear, or Cold 
Eiver, presenting at its intersection a much broader surface 
than the Eacket. Cold River rises in the Preston Ponds at 
the south foot of Mount Seward, and empties here after a 
flow of forty miles. It being noted for trout, we entered, 
and soon scores of the speckled fellows were flapping in 
our boats. 

We then explored farther up the beautiful stream, and at 
length a distant sound of axes touched our ears, " The lum- 
ber people that I told you of at Big Meadow !" said Harvey. 

Now the bank thrust some black tongue of a log into 
the stream to collect the floating twigs and water-weeds ; 
now the elm leaned over so as- to touch the sparkling water- 
break as if to drink, and now the lady birch gleamed out 
with her waxen skin and flowing tresses. 

At our right, or to the north-east, Harvey pointed out 
Mount Seward, some six or eight miles distant and mellow 
with aerial tints. ^ ^ >, 



100 WOODS AND waters; 

A mile farther on we passed a little opening in the 
woods. A fire was sparkling there, and around it were 
several stalwart fellows in red flannel shirts engaged at 
their dinner. Among them the copper skin and long dark 
locks of an Indian were conspicuous. A yoke of oxen 
were near, one ox lying down and the other feeding. 

Following the example of the lumbermen, we shot into 
a little cove and swallowed our lunch on the back of a pro- 
strate cedar, with our knees buried in herbage. 

We then returned, and taking the cross cut of a small 
channel to our left came again into the Eacket. Up 
we pulled once more, and, after a few miles, landed on 
the right bank, whence a half-mile carry led to Long 
Lake. 

A path that touched along through the woods soon 
brought us to a small stumpy clearing, where stood 
" Bowen's Camp," a little four by six shanty of spruce 
bark and sloping to the earth from a cross stick on forked 
poles. The recess contained a chest and a bed of boughs. 
A sapling fish-pole stood in a corner. Outside was the 
kitchen — an upturned, propped scow, with a gridiron, a 
saucepan, an iron pot, and a tin cup or two underneath. 
Blackened stones showed the fire-place, with a pole planted 
in a rocky cleft whereby to hang the pot; the whole 
disclosing a very primitive mode of life. 

It was the home of Bowen, a solitary hunter and trapper, 
who cultivated also a small patch of potatoes, rye and 
buckwheat on the adjacent hillside. 

We skirted the clearing, passing the grey eye of Bowen's 
spring sparkling between long fern leaves, ascended a 
height, and the lake burst upon us. Eeflecting in its broad 
bosom the blue and white of the soft heaven, it stretched 
down toward the south, until an abrupt curve closed the 
view. In front was a charming bay, a leafy mountain 
beyond. A bare rock stood by a green island in the mid- 
distance, with another bay rounding to the right. Thence 
the vision was closed by tho curve, although it still would 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 101 

fain have roved beyond where fancy imaged a "hundred 
fairy coves and stately reaches and romantic shades. 

I gazed at the lake in its enchanting beauty, with playful 
breezes darting over its gloss and the sunlight kissing it 
into radiant smiles, and thought how it pierced onward and 
downward into this splendid wilderness, so lonely in its 
surrounding details, so imposing in its sweep of grandeur. 
Far to the east, towered I knew the sublime Indian Pass 
and the cloud-cleaving Tahawus with the wild lakes gem- 
ming like dew drops his giant feet. Southward from its 
head, down through the great forest glittered a network of 
water to Lake George, that storied lake of mountains. To 
the west wound the savage Bog Kiver, dim artery to the 
core of the whole region's heart, its gloomy fastnesses oifer- 
ing, with the Mount Seward wilderness and the lonely shades 
of Indian Lake, the only home now of the almost mythic 
moose. 

We returned to our boats and were soon on our down- 
ward way toward the camp. The dash of the oars echoed 
pleasantly and the ripple of the wake made hollow gurgles 
and pulsated among the lilies and rushes of the margin. 

As we passed the mouth of Cold Eiver, a boatman, de- 
scending the stream, joined us. He was a river driver ; and 
belonged to the lumber crew we had seen, but for a week 
had been hunting with success near Mount Seward; had 
heard the roaring of a moose in the distance, had caught a 
fine lot of trout, and was now on his way to his shanty near 
Tupper's Lake. He was a frank, talkative fellow, and we 
gave him an invitation to camp with us the coming night, 
which he accepted. 

" We'll hev rain shortly," said Harvey, pointing to the 
sky. " When I'm off the lakes and can't hear the loons, I 
look out for other signs o' rain in Natur. Now the weather 
seems jest at this time fair enough, but do ye see up there 
how them white clouds take to one another jest like b'ys 
and gals. That's a sign I've scurce ever knowed to fail 
that rain's a comin'. Ef they hang off though, meltin* 



102 WOODS AND WATERS; 

away in the sky, that's the sign of « dry spell. There's 
another sign I see too ! Look at that popple flutt'rin !" 
directing my attention to a quivering aspen or wild poplar. 
" There aint no other leaves stirrin'. Them trees know 
jest as well as the loons when wet weather's ahead. Ef I 
hear the owls to-night I shell be more sarten than ever." 

" A deer, a deer !" at this moment shouted Gaylor, who 
was leading the van. I caught a glimpse of a pair of ant- 
lers skimming the surface of the stream in front of Gaylor's 
boat, and then a sudden turn concealed them. 

Both the boats dashed round the bend, but we were only 
in time to catch a glimpse of a white brush disappearing 
by a thicket in a small, wild meadow on our right. 

After this little incident, nothing occurred to waken our 
attention until we heard the note of a kingfisher perched on 
an old rotting tree. 

" Did ye ever see them little critturs, 'bout breedin' time ?" 
asked Harvey. " They're cute, they be. I come nigh a 
nest, one day, in a hole in a bank, and one on 'em made 
a suddent flop onto the water and went flounderin' and 
splutterin' about as ef he was a-dyin', and t'other stood on 
the bank, all bristlin' up and his tail a-shakin', and makin' 
a squawkin'. They cut them didoes jest fur to git me off 
the nest. It beats me how much critters without sense 
knows. They know a great deal more'n some men I" and 
with this aphorism he comforted himself with a portion of 
" stick." 

We shortly reached the head of the falls. It presented 
a sweet, peaceful water scene of scattered rock and leaning 
tree, with dark spots of cedars, and logs laving their jackets 
of golden green in the crystal ; a marked contrast to the 
dash and foam of the stream immediately below. We tra- 
versed the carry, and found the camp fire merrily blazing 
under Corey's superintendence, and the camp in perfect 
order. 

Our sylvan meal was soon spread and cheerily we de- 
spatched it. 



OR, THE S ARAN ACS AND RACKET. 103 

" Merry merry outlaws 

Of the e;reenwood free, 
Far from toil and trouble, 

Self-made monarchs we I 
Over us its banner 

"Waves the windy tree, 
Waters round us warble, 

Oh how blithesome wel" 

Night draws around ; the stars jewel the trees and we 
prepare for slumber. 

Just as we had slouched our felt hats over our ears and 
were wrapping ourselves in our blankets, a most horrible 
uproar burst from the opposite bank. It sounded like 
imps in convulsions of laughter. The tones and the echoes 
were so blended it was impossible to tell the number of the 
voices. 

" Harvey 1" shouted Bingham to that worthy at the 
camp-fire. " Are the ghosts of the Saranac Tribe pealing 
out their warwhoops preparatory to an onslaught, or have 
all the panthers in the woods become suddenly mad, and 
are coming to attack the camp ?" 

" Them's owls !" said Harvey laconically. 

" Owls once more I" cried I. " Are the woods made of 
owls, and every owl with a different voice ?" 

'' The sort of owl that makes this noise," said Harvey, 
" is a part of my almynack of the weather. We shell hev a 
rainy day tomorrer depend on't I" 



104 



CHAPTER X. 

Camp Sketches in a Rain Storm. — Lumbering and River Driving. 

I HAD been dreaming of floating through a forest, with 
a jack-light for an eye and trying to halloo between a 
scream and a hiss, when a humming like an enormous bee- 
hive wakened me. Harvey had proved a true prophet; 
the rain had come. I rose, and opening a fold of the tent 
in front looked out. It was early dawn. Through a 
brown light, masses of the landscape were dimly breaking. 
Across the background of the opposite bank the fine rain 
was glimmering. A rainy mist mantled the sky and shut 
in the farther view. 

As the grey dawn strengthened, near outlines came out, 
but the whole view looked sulky and promised only a day 
of unvarying wet. The guides were soon astir, and the 
camp-fire was at Jength spluttering and flaming, our only 
comfort in the dreariness. 

Presently my comrades awoke. The front of the tent 
was open for the fire to shed its genial, cheerful light 
within. 

" A nebulous prospect !" exclaimed Bingham rising, 
" everything looks like a. wet sponge. How watery these 
forests are! Every appearance of a social day in camp, 
eh, fellows?" 

" A very good time to kill that buck you're always talk- 
ing about, but never doing, Bing !" said Gaylor. 

" Who killed that buck at the Beaver Pond I should like 
to know ?" said Bingham with some heat. 

" Cort !" answered Coburn laconically. 



105 

" Ah 1 h — e — m ! but who shot the other at Palmer 
Brook ?" triumphantly. 

" Heaven knows !" said Eenning. " You said you did. 
But what shall we do to-day, boys !" 

" A capital day, Ealph, for you to fish the river !" re- 
torted Bingham. " A little water by absorption may pos- 
sibly neutralize something else in your S3^stem !" 

The odors of breakfast now filled the air; the frying- 
pan hissed, and the teapot bubbled. 

Tea, in the woods, hot or cold, is most delicious, refresh- 
ing and invigorating. The air of the forest, sparkling with 
vitality, requires not the aid of spirits to make the blood 
glow and the heart bound. Tea adjusts and sustains the 
true equilibrium. 

The meal finished, we quartered ourselves comfortably 
in the tent, pipe in mouth, to pass the day as pleasantly 
as we could. 

Our canvas room presented quite a picturesque appear- 
ance. Guns and fishing-rods, in their woollen covers, were 
piled in a corner. Blankets were spread over layers of 
hemlock, the warm reds and purples of some contrasting 
with the cool greys of the others, as well as the greens of 
the foliage, to which red and blue hunting-shirts added 
their colors. Camp-stools stood legs up ; pipes and meer- 
schaums, boxes of cigars and papers of tobacco littered one 
nook ; partridges chequered another ; one overcoat hung 
loosely by the neck from the tent-pole and one was sprawl- 
ing below ; carpet-bags, pillows of the night before, were 
strewed about ; the skin of our bear stood rolled up in a 
corner near a pair of moccasins and a neck-yoke acciden- 
tally left and on which my luckless cranium had slipped 
in my jack-light dream, adding to its sensations a feeling 
as if the owls were busy with my brain. 

Outside, was another picture composed entirely of forest 
touches. In the hollow of a tree was a slain wood-chuck, 
its grey dimly relieved by the gloom of the cavity ; a rifle, 
slanted low against a stump, was pointed at a dead deer 

6^ 



106 

propped against a tree; on another stump forked a pair 
of antlers ; half screened by a twisted root stood a jack ; on 
a flake of bark, covering a camp-kettle, glistened a gluti- 
nous pile of trout ; and a dead mink showed its teeth at a 
mud-hen, which trailed her brown wing in seeming defiance. 

Of the guides, two were at the entrance of the small tent 
smoking with the river driver, who had decided to spend 
the day with us ; two within were playing a game of cards ; 
and one next them was turning a sapling into a ramrod. 
Corey, his red shirt lighting up the covert, was under a 
stooping cedar, cutting venison steaks, and Little Jess was 
by him, dressing a wood-duck. 

Add to these, the glimmering air ; the dripping trees ; 
the tamarack drooping its boughs as a lurcher its ears, and 
the aspens in hysterics from the ceaseless pelting ; the river 
pricked into one continual twitching by the rainy needles ; 
with the dense grey blanket of the mist spread over all, and 
the scene is complete. 

" Well, boys, how we shall spend the day, out in these 
rainy woods, where the sun has hardly room to shine in 
the best of times, I can't imagine," yawned Bingham. 

At this moment the river driver passed, and, hearing the 
last remark, stopped and, w4th the latitude of the region, 
spoke. 

" Oust in a while," said he, *' we hed jest sich times in 
the lumber woods when we didn't know what to do with 
ourselves, but 'twas in the wust kind o' snow-storms instid 
o' this mite o' rain." 

" Come in and tell us about this lumber life I" said Ken- 
ning. 

" Well," said the boatman entering, and settling down 
against an overturned camp-stool ; "in the fust place, 
there's big comp'nies in Maine that follers lumb'rin' for a 
business. In the fall they send out their timber hunters to 
find out where the thickest white pine clumps is, for this 
])ine mebby you know lives t'gether like parents and chil- 
dren and grows not a great ways from the water. 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 107 

- " Then the buildin' hands come, and bush out a spot for 
a camp, and build up the shanties. The shanties are nice 
ones and they're scatterered all round in the woods, p'tic'ly 
round the Upper S'nac Lake. They're called Maine Shan- 
ties. Then other hands comes and lays out the roads ; 
fust the main — that's the big road through the woods — and 
then the branch roads leadin' to the pine clumps. Then 
the crews is made up, and comes inter the woods fur the 
winter. 

*' All our fam'ly's bin in them crews and bin everything 
but Boss and Cook. The old man's bin swamper, I've 
bin chopper, Tim and Hank, my two brothers, lumb'rin' 
up Cold River with Joe Slack and Injin Jake, they've bin 
barker and teamster, and 'ave tuk keer o' the bateau with 
the tents, cookin' things and victuals." 

" What do you mean by swamper and barker?" asked I. 

" The swampers bush out the roads to the pines that's 
felled, and the barkers strip the bark off the eends of the 
logs that slides on the snow from the bob-sleds that carries 
'em to the landin's. 

"I've been chopper, as I said afore, and though I say't 
myself, it takes a smart man to be a good chopper. Fust, 
you must look out and not take pines that's got the rot, or 
the konkus as we call it. You've got to look out purty 
sharp fur that. The tree on the whull is jest as good 
lookin' as one that's sound, and it's unly by lookin' cluss 
that you see a brown blotch even with the bark, not fur 
from the butt, and from the size of a popple leaf to the 
biggest size hopple's and there you see the konkus. And 
then you must hev jedgement about fallin' a pine, or mebby 
you'll be knocked by 't inter kingdom come. I've knowed 
pines to fall contr'y a'most from the skid." 

"Skid!" 

" Yes ! the bed-piece or little cord'roy road o' poles we 
lay on the sno^ fur the tree to fall on, and not bury itself 
in the banks ; an(i there you hev 't handy to strip the 
limbs off. a^d cut it inte:p logs. 



108 WOODS AND WATERS 



"Well, as sun as the snow sets in the crews go ter work 
in the woods, fur ye see the snow makes it rael handy in 
these thick woods to drag the timber. After the pines 's 
down we chop 'em inter good-sized logs, and mark every 
one so we kin pick 'em out agin at the booms along and 
p'tic'lar at the big boom at the eend. They're then hauled 
to the water by the teamsters with bob-sleds and oxen. 
But about the choppin' ! I tell you when we're all to work 
we make the old woods ring agin fur miles round the 
shanty. Sich a whack, whack, and sich a crackin' and 
roarin' as the pines fall ! And then the draggin' I It's 
gee up and gee ho ! and whoe, and go 'lang, and the sleds 
they go a screechin' through the snow with the weight o' 
the logs on 'em ; and the woods is in a parfect hallerbelloo 
with it all. So we gets 'em to places handy fur the 
high water, and the river drivers come, and drive 'em down 
to the big boom at Plattsburgh. 

"What waters do they drive the logs through?" asked 
Gaylor. 

" Gin'rally through the Upper S'nac, Eound Lake, and 
Lower S'nac into S'nac River and then down. But there's 
waters all round the Upper S'nac that they drive through. 
There's Musketer, and Rawlins and Floodwood Ponds and 
the Fish-creek waters, and twenty more up and round there. 
Now about the drivin'. That's stirrin' work I tell ye. It's 
bad enough in runnin' the bateau to keep right sides up 
through the logs and rapids along, but this is, I was a goin' 
to say, the very old Harry. A stavin' off the logs from the 
rocks, and one another, and pushin' on 'em down with your 
pike-poles, and jumpin' on 'em and strikin' up a dance as 
they roll over to keep up straight, and straddle 'em when 
they come to a rift ; I tell ye it's some ! 

" The river drivers 's a hard set. It's rum, rum, with 
'em most all the time, and when they aint drinkin' they're 
fightin', that is when they aint workin'. But after all, ef 
rum must be drinked, I don't know any folks that ought 
to hev it more than them Maine river drivers. They're 



109 

in tlie water a'most all the time, and you know as well as I 
doos what the water is in Mairch. There's a good deal o' 
fun, though, afore the rael drivin' begins. The fun is gittin' 
the logs into the water. All go to work with their pries 
and hand-spicks and cant-dogs, and it's tug, and it's roll, till 
swash go the logs into the stream that's all swelled up and 
comes a rushin' and a roarin', hur-r-r-r-r-r-a b'ys ! down 
through the woods like a nor'-wester or a hail-storm. In 
the logs go ; swirlin' round ; turnin' eend over eend ; a dar- 
tin' here and slap-dash agin a rock there; knockin' agin 
each other, cadunk, cadunk, makin' the splinters fly ; divin' 
down and stickin' up their noses agin like North Biver 
sturgeons, or jumpin' half-way out o' water like a hungry 
trout, and all the while a rushin' down with the current. 
When there's a high bank for 'em to roll down, I tell ye, 
it's some to look at 'em. I've seen 'em often roll down 
them steep hills by Fish Creek waters up there on Upper 
S'nac. Down they go, topsy-turvy, eends up, head over 
heels, any way, a crushin' down the small trees, bringin' up 
agin the bigger ones, and jumpin' over the rocks and rollin' 
like thunder and lightnin' both down over the ledges till 
they come to the water, and, Jesse ! what a splashin'. I've 
seen the stream as white as a cloth with 'em. 

" Now comes the work. Sometimes they'll go fur a con- 
sid'able ways, jest like a flock o' sheep, till the stream looks 
as ef 'twas made o' logs a'most ; and we walk over 'em 
as ef 'twas one big raft. Then there comes a little bay 
like or eddy, and fast one, then a dozen or twenty mebby 
gits a kant, and noses up torts shore, and then the others 
comes along and jams up the forred ones, and I tell ye 
there's fightin' fur a consid'able time and the foam flies, 
but the rael old jam mebby don't come yit. 

"Bimeby that comes. We'll spose there's a little island 
or a rock in the narrer part o' the channel, or a sharp crook 
in the stream, and a log or two gits ketched ; then a dozen 
or fifty so as to make a boom like ; and then them that's 
behind comes dunk, dunk, bum, bum, and the big ones 



110 

rides down the smaller ones, and the others comin' down 
shoots up on them and others come a crashin' on them and 
workin' under, and the jam gets bigger and bigger, and 
the stream roars down through and over, ennj way it kin 
to git along ; and the whull kit that's a comin' down comes 
a tumblin' and a dashin' and a roUin' and grindin' agin one 
another, and flyin' back and rarin' up and divin' down, and 
the waves wash up, and you'd think all cr'ation was a 
breakin' to pieces. All this ere unly makes the jam bigger 
and stronger. It lays all eends and p'ints, and it must be 
got rid on. So when the stream has high rocks over it, a 
man is let down by a rope round his waist, with his picka- 
roons on, to cut or pry away at the lower eend o' the jam 
where the trouble is. This is gin'rally in a small spot, a 
log or so, and ef the log, the key -log some calls it, has the 
bigger part o' the weight on't, a few cuts with the axe doos 
the business ; the log breaks and hurra ! the man's jerked 
up by the rope ag'in and the jam comes a tumblin' down 
like old Sanko. Ef the trouble can't be got rid on so, the 
man knots a rope round the log and the hands go down 
stream with the rope and tug and tug and he pries or cuts, 
or both, and the jam starts that way. 

*' Other times and when there aint no high banks, one, 
sometimes more, 'cordin' as the jam is, goes with his axe 
and hand-spick and pickaroons agin — you knows what them 
is ! No ? Well, they're leetle steel spikes druv into the 
heels and soles o' their boots so as to keep 'em from slip- 
pin'. Well, he goes a treadin' over the jam as well as he 
kin, for it's dusty trav'lin', I tell ye, to cut away and pry 
off the trouble, and he tugs and h-e-a-v-e-s and s-t-r-a-i-n-s 
and cuts, and sometimes one nip or blow doos it, and all 
gives way at oust, with a roar like the breakin' up o' the 
ice in Tupper's Lake, and down the logs come tumble-te- 
tumble. The thing is now fur the man to git away. There 
he is in the middle mebby of the logs, and it's mighty hard 
sleddin' there, all a rollin' and tumblin', and it's some to 
git ashore. He runs and he jumps (these river drivers are 



Ill 

as spry as cats) and he goes cornerin' round and twists, and 
sonijetimes what he steps on turns over, and afore he knows 
it, down he goes 'twixt two logs and he hes to dive down 
and come up where he kin ketch it, and sometimes don't 
come up at all. There was Will Timball, he was as nice a 
young feller fur a river driver as ever I see ; a sober (fur 
all on 'em don't drink), good, honest feller, as merry as a 
cricket all day long, and couldn't he sing ! I tell ye, there's 
no use o' talkin', but some of his songs they fairly witched 
your heart out. Well, he went in a heavy jam to pry off, 
and he went down and he never come up agin. I see him 
oust with his hands up above his head twixt some logs, 
but they shut up tight like the wink o' your eye, and that 
was the last of him. Poor Will, he must ha' got hurt as 
he fell, fur a spunkier feller never lived, and strong and 
nimble, and knowed how to drive as well as the best on 'em. 
There was Betsey Chase, his sweetheart, he was to be mar- 
ried to her as sun as he got to Plattsburgh, as nice a young 
gal as ever growed. Oh how she took on ! Them that 
see her at Plattsburgh when she was told on't, said it e'en 
a'most bruk their hearts to see her take on so ; she was 
kinder onsarten after that about the head, and finally at 
last died. Well, when the logs druv past, we found the 
body and took it to Plattsburgh, and we buried him along- 
side of his mother. 

" I see another terr'ble sight oust in a jam. The jam was 
jest above a long stretch o' rapids, and rael bad rapids they 
was too, about fifteen mile above Plattsburgh, in the S'nac 
Piver. Well, there the jam was, and a feller they called 
Dare Devil Dick — his name was Dick Siples — and he was 
one on 'em, now I tell ye ! one o' yer rael harum-scarum 
kind o' critters that didn't know what bein' skeert was. 
He'd al'ys go right head foremost into scrapes, and some- 
how or other he'd al'ys git out on 'em too. I see him fight 
two men one time and they w^a? the bullies of Plattsburgh 
too. Well, he licked 'em both, i tell ye he fit spiteful. 
He was the sassiest feller to strike I ever see, and I've seen 



112 

a good many fightin' charackters too in my day. Well, as 
I was sayin', Dick spoke out, says he, ' I know jest where 
the trouble is, and I bleeve I kin set it right,' and with that 
he j umped with his hand-spick right out on the logs, and 
ef he didn't spring and jump over 'em — I tell yer I Well, 
he come to a sarten spot and he tugged and pried and 
tugged agin, and finally at last, quick as that (slapping his 
hands) it 'peared to me, the whull give way. Dick sprang, 
but the log he was on went slap-dash right into the rapids, 
and what did he do but fall right a straddle, and down he 
shot, and all the logs a tumblin' after him. I tell ye we 
all quaked. There was Dick, a riding the log jest like 
a hoss, and a tossin' and a plungin' a leetle ahead o' 
the rest, but precious little though. Kow he'd shoot 
twixt rocks where the foam flew six foot high, and now 
he'd seem to be a goin' right on a bed on 'em ; but some- 
how or the other he'd fly as 'twere past ; and now he'd 
dive down into a great white swell o' foam, like a loon, 
and up he'd come agin. All this while the logs behind 
was a strikin' agin' the rocks ^nd keelin' up and rollin' over 
and over and s-w-a-s-hin' down agin. I tell ye 'twas an orful 
sight. And sich a roarin' and crackin' and splittin' as there 
was. Two or three times we all had an idee he was gone. 
Oust he grazed a log so cluss he had to throw his legs up, 
and hang on by his knees, and then on t'other side a log 
come p'intin' right agin him, and 'twould ha' tore him all 
to pieces ef it had a hit him ; but he kinder twirled himself 
round and it unly struck the log. It keeled that over 
though, and down he went and made what you may call a 
summerset in the water. Up he comes agin a gripin' and 
holdin' on like death. He hadn't though got more'n sot 
up agin afore a tre-mew-jious log come a strikin' on a bed o' 
rocks. It jumped up I should raally say six foot and then 
rolled over and over right upon him as we had an idee. 
It didn't though, but it struck the log he was on, jest on 
the eend, and it tipped it up like a rarin' colt. Down it 
come agin caswash, and the foam flew, and we could jest 



113 

see Dick tlirougli it, but down stream he went and wasn't 
hurt a hair. But now come the wust thing of all. There 
was a passle o' logs struck a smooth ledge o' rock that 
Dick had shot aside of. Thej come a cornerin' like, 
and hung jest like a ruff right over Dick's head. We all 
thought nothin' now could save him from bein' crushed flat 
as a shingle. Down come the logs, whonk, and Dick's log 
flew up on eend and then fell back'ards on the other logs. 
But where was Dick all this time! Why I'm afeard you'll 
set me down as a liar ef I tell ye that he see the logs a 
comin' (for his eyes appeared to fly round his head like a 
hum-bird's in a tumbler) and he sprung and he hit on 
another log jest along side, and the next we see of 'im he 
was a shootin' right into a swift place where the stream was a 
runnin' like a mill-tail; and here was the very wust place, fur 
'twas where it pitched a foamin' like a bear's mouth when 
he's riled, down about six foot into a hole where 'twas a 
bilin' jest like a pot. Ef he'd a gone down there, nothin' 
could ha' saved him, I bleeve, fur that aire hole was jest 
one bed o' sharp p'inted rocks and he knowed it. Well, 
I'll be swizzled ef that aire critter, jest as that aire log was 
a pitchin' down that aire cobumbus like o' water, didn't 
reach out and ketch hold on a branch o' hemlock a growin' 
from a pint o' the bank, and swing himself up jest like a 
squirrel. Didn't we hooray ! I tell ye, we did, some ; 
and Dick he hoorayed too, and he got a straddle of the 
branch, and ' Hail Columbee !' s'ze he, and he clapped his 
sides and gin a crow and s-s-pun it out so long, you could 
ha heerd him a mild. Then he slipped down from the 
tree and the fust thing he said, s'ze, ' Grimme a drink,' s'ze, 
' fur I'm so tarnal dry,' s'ze, ' fur all I'm so wet,' s'ze, 'and 
so chilled through,' s'ze, ' that I don't know,' s'ze, ' but I'd 
go off,' s'ze, ' ef my teeth should happen to strike fire,' s'ze, 
and he gin a laugh and then a jump as ef he was a goin' to 
jump down his own throat. 

" Poor Dick, poor Dick ! he didn't fare so well the next 
scrape he got into ; fur the very next year he got inter a 



114 

jam, and a couple o' logs come t'gether and cut him right 
in two, they did. Poor Dick ! I see the eends of the logs 
all red fur a minute afterwards, and down he went, and we 
buried him at Plattsburgh, jest as we did Will Timball. 

" Yes, yes, it's a danng'rous life, and a hard life this 
drivin' the river. It's a good deal like drivin' a passle o' 
onrooly cattle in the woods. Some o' the hands go be- 
hind in boats and a wadin' where they kin, and ridin' on the 
logs to see that they don't stick by the way ; and pole 'em 
and hand-spick 'em along, and drive 'em enny way ; fur in 
the coves and eddies along a good many's mighty unwillin' 
to go ; and then agin they're too willin' and shoot away 
with ye, as I've said, and shoot up on the banks, and then 
it's tug, tug, to git 'em back agin. Some on us hev to go 
on the banks keeping pace with the logs, up the ridges and 
down the ridges, and through the swamps and over the 
trees and stuns, heltery skeltery, licketty scramble, jest as 
we kin ketch it ; sometimes makin' a short cut that's often 
a long one, crost a bend, takin' a bite o' suthin' through 
the day ; dartin' in a tavern ef there should happen to be 
enny, and pitch suthin' to drink down our throats and a 
cracker or two, and out agin and follerin' along. Some- 
times we folly all night, but gin'rally we don't. As a 
gin'ral thing we put up at night, and let the logs slide 
along and ef there comes a jam it's all the better. But a 
few times in my drivin' though I've druv all night, when 
the woods was so dark it rally seemed as ef you might cut 
the air into solid blocks ; all the time 'twas rainin' too, 
that cold mizzlin' kind o' rain that feels like needles on yer 
face ; you couldn't folly the stream nuther, a quarter o' the 
time on the bank, the brush was so thick ; and ye could 
unly tell by the roarin o' the water and crashin' and wal- 
lopin' o' the logs where 'twas. Sometimes you'd hev to go 
a mild or so clearn round where the stream made a spread 
drownin' some swamp ; and other times where 'twould run 
up some deep gully and we'd hev to swim crost and mebby 
feel our way over some tree felled from one bank to t'other. 



OK, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 115 

each side lookin' like a gret black gulf. T tell ye, we'd 
hev ter put hands and feet one crost tother mighty keerful 
goin' crost, treadin' like a painter or a bear, or fare wuss. 
And sometimes there'd come up a thunder storm and 
b-l-o-w, and the wind 'ud smash down the trees, whack, all 
round ye, and the thunder 'ud roll and crack so that 'twas 
onpossible to hear the stream roarin', and the rain 'ud fall 
hogsheads full. The unly thing pleasant about the thing 
then 'ud be the lightnin', fur that flashin' and glarin' all 
round, showed the trees, and they seemed company fur ye, 
and showed the way through 'em too. It ojBfen cut so 
cluss crost your eyes as to cut the sight out on 'em a'most, 
and I've seen it strike, whizz, the big pines and hem- 
locks, so nigh to ye, 'twas next to scorchin' the hair on yer 
head. 

" 'Twas a wild sight, too, and I don't know but skeery 
to see the stream a rollin' down through the black night 
and hear't moanin' jest as though 'twas lost in the woods. 
And the dark logs streamin' 'long and pitchin' through the 
rapids, seemed as ef there was an all fired set o' black 
things a fightin' t'gether." 

" Was there nothing to enjoy in this kind of life ?" I 
asked. 

" Oh yes I I somehow enj'yed the whull on't ; that is 
rayther. Part o' the time 'twas as pleasant as kin be. 
After workin' in the woods all day, to come back at night 
to a rousin' good fire, and the fellers all a jokin' and laughin' 
after supper, with now and then a good song ; I tell ye, 
'twas fust rate. Here's one o' the songs !" and he struck 
up, in a not unmusical voice, the following, timing the air 
with his foot: — 

Oh, it's lumb'rin in the forest, it's a lumb'rin we will go. 
When the winter winds is whistlin' and the woods is full of snow, 
When the winter winds is whistlin' and the air is bitter cold, 
We leave the hfe of menkind, for lumber life so bold. 

Oh, it's lumb'rin' in the forest, it's a lumb'rin' we will go, 
With our axes on our shoulders fur to lay the pine-wood low. 



116 WOODS AND WATERS; 

The deer is close a hidin' and the ice it holds the trout ; 
All Natur' fast is frozen, but we long to stir about ; 
The lumber lads is merry and the pine has readj pay, 
So wife takes keer of cabin and we low the pinewood lay. 
Oh, it's lumb'rin' in the forest, &c. 

Whack, whack from dawn till sundown we do lay our lusty blows, 
And thund'rin' to the snow-banks deep, down, down the pinewood goes. 
And when the day is ended, in the shanty all do meet, 
And round the fire a roarin' all our songs and jokes repeat. 
Oh, it's lumb'rin' in the forest, &c. 

" When the logs got down to the lakes, too," continued he, 
"and we ketched and pinned 'em t'gether — what we call 
cribbin' or boomin' on 'em — twas high old times agin. We 
boomed 'em tight all round with timber and made a big 
raft, then warped 'em through the lakes. That is, we'd 
sink an anchor thirty or forty rods ahead, and hev a rope 
twixt it and a windlass on the raft, and then we'd (twisting 
his arms round) warp up, warp up. When the weather 
was kinder warm, I never hev enj'yed enny thing more'n a 
sail this way down the Upper S'nac. The lake 'ud be as 
smooth as glass, not a riffle on't, except where some loon 
or other skimmed along, or a trout jumped up, or a gull 
or so dipped inter the water ; and we'd go glidin' by the 
islands and the p'ints, and the sun 'ud burn softly and the 
wind make fannin' all over ye. You forgit all yer trou- 
bles a drivin' and wish you could git 'long so all yer life. 
And the moonshiny nights I've seen on the lakes too; 
when there 'peared to be a line o' gold dollars sparklin' 
half crost the water ; and some places as white and shiny 
as the breast of a deer and others as black as a raven. 
'Twas nice. Sometimes though the Upper S'nack 'ud be 
as ugly as p'isen. 'Twould be all black and white with 
the swells and foamin' and dashin', and the wind 'ud 
s-w-i-s-s-s-h down as ef 'twas a big blacksmith bellus. 
Wouldn't the raft dance? I tell yer, 'twould be lively 
times there ! And then by the time we got inter the Gut 
by Bartlett's, mebby 'twould be calm agin. 



OK, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 117 

" Then 'ud come lettin' the logs loose to shoot the rapids 
at Bartlett's. 

" So you see the sort o' life the river drivers live. 'Tisn't 
a feather bed one, take it by and large, by a blamed sight ! 
But I telled Will I'd shoot with him fur a pint jest about 
this time, and I must be stirrln'." 

So saying, the boatman rose and sauntered out of the 
tent. 



118 WOODS AND waters; 



CHAPTEE XL 



Camp Sketches. — Racket Falls Camp Left. — Down the Racket to Calkins. — 
An onslaught of Musquitoes upon the Saranac Club. — Mart's imitations. 



Hm, m, m, m ; hm, ni, m, m, patter, patter, drip, drip. 

"We had our dinner in the tent, and I then stepped out 
to change the scene. 

The nearer trees were looking dark through the misty 
air, and glimmering more and more indistinct, until 
they were completely shaded in. Over the hill in front 
ragged scuds were flitting, while white vapor rolled down 
its breast. The dripping forest, and the river, mezzotinted 
with the ceaseless drops, looked forlorn and desolate. The 
guides were in their tent, showing dimly from the gloom ; 
four now in a game of cards on a flake of bark over their 
knees, and one cleaning his rifle. Corey was looking at 
the players, and Little Jess was repairing a rod. 

Two of the hounds were before the tent, one snapping at 
the drops that splintered on his nose, and the other gazing 
at the forest with uplifted foot, and an ear-flap erect. 
A third went stalking solemnly around, occasionally 
lengthening himself back with protruded fore-feet and 
gapmg lazily ; while a fourth now rose to his fore-legs 
sweeping his tongue around the corners of his mouth, and 
now reared himself entirely to look sleepily about ; then, 
after a turn or so, as if in search of his tail, crouching again 
with his head between his fore-paws for apparent slumber. 

All these live dottings of the monotonous picture served 
but to amuse for a moment, and I re-entered the tent. 



OK, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 119 

" Eenning, your tongue is the longest, tell us a story !" 
said Bingliara, stretching. 

" I'm not much of a story-teller, boys, but " com- 
menced Kalph. 

" In one sense," said Bingham. 

" But," repeated the other, lighting a fresh cigar and dis- 
daining to notice the insinuation, " I'll do what I can. 
About three years ago, I went up the west branch of Bog 
Kiver to Mud Lake with a friend and a guide. It is the 
loneliest and gloomiest of rivers, and the same, or more, is 
true of the Lake. 

" We reached the Lake about sunset. My friend and 
the guide took our boat to visit a cove some distance up, 
where the latter said he had on a former visit seen a moose. 
Left thus to myself I felt inexpressible loneliness stealing 
over me. I thought, should any accident befall my friend 
and the guide, how inevitably would I perish ! To enhance 
the wildness of my position, I saw in the sand of the shore 
the huge tracks of a moose and panther. 

" As I sat plunged in my reflections, I heard low deep 

sounds, apparently of anger, rising from a neighboring 

ravine. I fastened my eyes there, and saw an object just 

above the edge. It looked like the head of some wild 

beast. I placed my gun in readiness ; the object rose 

higher ; and now it seemed a human form which advanced 

toward me. I looked with astonishment. The form was 

; that of an old man. His clothes were woven of pine 

i fringes, his hair fell on the shoulders in large masses. It 

was composed of the grey moss which clings to the dead 

i pines and hemlocks, and was surmounted by the antlers of 

I a deer. A beard of moss flowed to his knees. His face 

i and hands were scaly with lichen. His eyes were like the 

jred balls of the wolf; tusks projected from his mouth like a 

!; panther's, and his nails were long and curved like the claws 

< of an eagle. His gait was a long stride, and his feet, or rather 

hoofs, made clicking sounds like those of the moose. 

" As he approached, I tried to move away. But some 



120 

power fastened me to the spot. I found I had to ' face the 
music.' 

" ' Aha !' said he, MVe found you, have I!' ' 

" As the remark could not well be controverted, I 
answered that I thought he had. 

" ' Do you know who I am ?' 

" I regretted most politely that I did not. 

" ' I am the Spirit of the Wilderness,' said he. 

" I begged to be allowed to say, and would have risen 
had I been able, that I was very happy to see him. 

" ' I am the only survivor of a family that once covered 
all this State,' said he. 

" ' Ah !' said I, attempting a look of regret. 

" * Here was our abode,' continued he, ' centuries upon 
centuries. The red men were our dependents. They lived 
happily for generations under our protection. The moose, 
the panther, the wolf, the bear, the deer, the beaver, also 
enjoyed our bounty. The winds ^vere our breath ; and, 
drinking in God's gift of rain and sunshine, we rendered 
Him our thanksgiving and praise in happy murmurings 
and songs. The birds bore our thoughts in merry sylla- 
bles ; the waters were our bands of brotherhood. Where 
are we now ! The accursed white man, with his pitiless 
axe and devouring fire, has destroyed all but me. Here 
I have lived in such content as the fate of my poor family 
would allow. But these last years have brought a woeful 
change. My solitude has been outraged,' and his eyes 
began to gleam, 'by these detested whites. Parties of 
them from the cities, affecting the airs of hunters, invade 
my peace with unmeaning uproar, mountebank pranks, 
forlornest jokes, and most villanous rum. My eyes and 
ears are offended with them ; my nostrils are sick of them. 
Therefore have I vowed vengeance ;' and as he said this, 
he snapped his tusks together with a click that chilled my 
blood. 

" ' You,' added he, glaring more fiercely than ever, ' you 
are one of them !' 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKEt. 121 

" I hastened to say that though constrained to admit I was 
white, I was merely passing through the region on very 
particular business, and all alone. 

"'Business!' repeated he, and his eye grew fiercer; 
' business ! That word I hate. Are you a lawyer ? Of 
all these people, a lawyer I most detest.' 

" My heart (to use a slang but most appropriate phrase) 
sank into my boots. However, I said nothing. In fact, I 
could say nothing. 

" ' These lawyers,' continued he, ' are for ever nosing under 
titles and unsettling my boundaries ; and then the axe 
comes crashing in. I hope you are not a lawyer,' fasten- 
ing his great wild eye on me. 

" I hastened to protest — that I — I — in fact that I was an 
artist. 

" ' I'm glad of it. These artists and poets, if they do no 
good, they do no hurt. They paint me in pictures and 
verses rather shabby sometimes, but I — on the whole — I 
like the craft. Yes, yes, I'm glad you're one of them, and 
not a lawyer. If you were' — and his tusks began to 
gnash again. 

" I rejoiced at my escape. Politely proposing to spend 
the evening in my agreeable company, he advanced close 
and asked my name. I told him. He seemed about to 
seat himself At this instant my unlucky fate intervened. 
As I whisked out my handkerchief to wipe away the drops 
of my excitement, a paper flew out with it, in red tape ; a 
paper with the boldest writing on it — ' Supreme Court. 
Bugg V. Bugg, B,. Benning Attorney.' 

" I grasped it, but too late ; the fierce eye was on it. 

'■' ' Aha !' growled the Spirit, ' Benning, Attorney, is it ? 
So you are a lawyer !' with a yell that rang like a loon's ; 
and with flashing eyeballs he sprang at me. His claw 
was in my shoulder ; and the next moment — I saw — my 
friend's good-humored phiz smirking full in mine. 

" ' Well, of all snoozers,' said he, * you beat! I've been 
shaking the very boots off you to start you up.' 

6 



122 WOODS AND waters; 

" Start me," said I. '' Why— where's the Spirit of the 
Wilderness?" 

" ' Spirit of the pocket-bottle !' said my friend ; ' here it 
is !' producing his flask of whiskey ; ' and the next time I 
go to hunt up moose for the company, I hope you'll keep 
awake long enough at least to light a smudge for the mus- 
quitoes." 

" So my friend has been humbugging us with a dream, 
has he," said Bingham. " This Spirit of his was unques- 
tionably the spectre of his own sins ; and as the rest of us 
must despair of telling a greater — h-e-m — than this, I move 
we play eucre." 

As I did not play, I again left the tent. 

The scene was now brown in the declining day. The 
sharp head of the woodchuck was alone seen in the 
gloom of the hollow stump ; several small trout, left in 
the pan, were undulating in the water that had rained in it. 
The hill in front was blackening ; the flashes of the rapids 
were getting dim ; darkness was creeping into the white 
pines and turning into a mass the forest background. No 
symptoms of clearing. It seemed as if the rain would last 
for ever. 

A hound stopped from grazing the ground with his nose, 
to shower the rain around him with a quick shake. He 
then gave a sniff as if trying to blow his nose, and another 
vigorous shake, and grazed the earth as before. Drive, 
with his neck raised into a crescent and his upper lip 
wrinkled above his teeth, watched the hill with an occa- 
sional low growl sharpened into a spiteful bark, while 
Pup, fastened to a log, had twisted himself into a cat's 
cradle, and was endeavoring in every wrong way to untwist 
himself, confounding his tail with his head, and his legs 
with one another. 

The guides had ceased their game, and were now ear- 
nestly talking. As I approached I heard old Harvey 
say. 

" I tell ye. Mart ! it can't be done. No man ever went 



123 

up Settin' Pole Rapids alone in a boat. You never did in 
cr'ation." 

" I know I did," said Mart doggedly. 

" Onderstand me now," returned Harvey. " You kin go 
np part o' the way ; but there's a p'int o' rock which no 
man kin git round. Now I tell ye so !" 

" Well, / went round," said Mart, talking so earnestly 
as to catch his breath. " I went up to the p'int, and there 
I did hev a tussle. 'Twas licketty whang which should 
beat, I or the water, but I pulled and I strained ! I tell ye 
didn't I work ! Well, I did some. But I broke my oar in 
gittin' up." 

" I tell ye 'tis not a thing to be done. Don't I know, and 
didn't I row a boat afore you was born. Now I tell ye 
you might as well try to row up old Whiteface, as to row 
round a sarten p'int there. But ef you didn't go up you 
come down oust. Ho ! ho ! ho ! you and Cort, ho I ho ! 
ho ! licketty whip ! I see the boat go round like a kitten 
chasin' her tail." 

*' What bad weather we're a hevin'," here interposed 
Will, " it's rained so much to-day it don't 'pear to know 
how to stop." 

" This ere weather," returned Harvey, " is aggravatin'. 
I wish I could turn inter a trout, and then I wouldn't 
mind it. But while it's about it, why don't it rain a leetle 
whiskey as well as water. I think 'twould be a rael old 
hunderd idee." 

I retreated again to the tent. As my companions were 
still engaged in "eucre" I seated myself by the entrance 
and watched the camp-fire blazing and crackling in the fast 
gathering darkness. The rain but sprinkled it into fresh- 
ness. Now and then the pine tree near it spit a broad 
drop that stung a snappish ember, made a testy coal hiss, or 
a dot of warm ashes sound sullenly to its pat. I saw in the 
glowing depths a red deer drinking at a water-streak of 
ashes ; and wasn't that Cort in his red hunting shirt seated 
on a crimson rock ? And the smoke ! now it was the 



124 WOODS AND waters; 

dark topsail of the Flying Dutcbman, and now Surtur with 
his flaming falchion moving to the last grand battle-field of 
Vigrid. 

My picturings were at last destroyed by the simultaneous 
risings of my comrades from their game, and after an hour's 
glancings and flittings of talk we all retired to our hemlock 
beds for slumber. 

The heavy eyes of the morning opened, still glazed with 
tears. But the rain soon dwindled into a watery trans- 
parency and then glimmered away. The blanket of mist 
broke into huge fragments with glaring white edges, as if 
the light were trying to drain through, and curls of scud 
grazed the trees, twining around the higher ledges. The 
outlines of the forest began to show with hair-like distinct- 
ness. The surface of the Racket below the falls was like 
oil, and the windless trees stood still as in a painting. 

Tired of the landscape around the camp, we prepared to 
leave. 

In an hour our tent was struck, our boats loaded, and 
all, except Harvey and myself, on the downward voyage 
to Tupper's Lake. 

With his usual care, Harvey went over the camp to detect 
any article left behind. He shortly passed me toward the 
boat with a candle-end, several matches, a piece of twine 
and a tooth-pick taken from one of the smaller bones of a 
deer's leg in the cup of one hand, and a fork with one 
prong, a sugar-crusher whittled from pine, and a broken 
jack-knife thrust into the knots of his other ; while a bat- 
tered pewter spoon divided his mouth with a sooty un- 
lighted pipe. I lingered for a moment to throw a farewell 
glance over the camp. A ghastly sunbeam glared across 
the silent scene late so full of color and motion. There 
were our beds of hemlock ; there the thickets in which the 
venison had been sliced and the trout dressed ; there the 
white pines whose murmurs had been to me so full of 
music ; there the roots and stubs to which the ropes, draw- 
ing our tent to its shape, had been fastened ; there was the 



125 

stump of the marmot ; there stood the acclivity where the 
owls had assured Harvey in his weather wisdom ; and there 
the background forest with its meandering paths. The single 
thing left of all our property was the grinning deer's head. 

The rapids were flashing over the rocks, and they seemed 
to say " farewell !" the murmuring pines breathed the 
same ; the aspens trickled it as with tears. 

As I passed the thicket at the head of the path leading 
down the headland to the river, I gave one more glance to 
the sylvan beauty of Kacket Falls Camp, and the next 
moment was at the stern of the Bluebird. Harvey pushed 
her from the bank with his oar, and immediately we were 
following the other boats, which, however, were by this 
time out of sight. 

A deep sound ; a report of a gun, but distant. 

" They've shot at suthin' forred there," said Harvey. 
" A deer most likely !" 

We passed a little distance farther and another sound 
touched my ear. It was faint and quick, delicate as the tap 
of a ripple. 

"Another gun," said Harvey, "but a long way off! 
That come from Folingsby's Pond, ten mile from here. It 
can't in course be one of our party, fur not even Mr. Bing- 
ham, quick-as-a-snap kind o' gen'leman as he is, couldn't 
ha' got there yit, ho, ho, ho! How fond he is o' tellin' 
how many deer he's killed or would a killed ef he'd hed 
a chance!" 

It is surprising how far the report of a gun can be heard 
in the wilderness. The brittle sound flits across the ear 
from a distance almost incredible. 

What with stopping to look over the " slews " for deer, 
gathering Indian Plumes, mohawk tassels, moose heads, 
and white water-lilies, and otherwise loitering, we did not 
reach the bend to the left or north-west, above Stony Creek, 
until sunset. 

There was a splendid flush of color in the west, with 
clouds like blazing coals in a furnace. 



126 

" Too much red," said Harvey. " I'm a leetle afeard 
of to-morrow. Kain '11 be the order agin, I think ; but it 
can't be helped." 

The beautiful twilight shed its softness over the scene. 
On either bank the trees and herbage were drawn in the 
glassy river with the most delicate pencilling, forming a 
series of fairy paintings flecked with the gold, crimson, and 
purple of the zenith. From the trunk of the tree to the cut 
edges of its leaf, everything on the margin was seen as if 
the water was air. The ripplings generally of our way 
only made the emerald pictures undulate without breaking 
them. Occasionally, however, a deeper plunge of the oar 
fractured the beautiful tracery, but in a moment it was 
again joined as if by invisible fingers. 

We had now arrived at the mouth of Stony Brook. 
Here Harvey pushed the stern of the boat in among the 
grasses of the bank, and I landed, took a seat in the smooth 
fork of the leaning water maple at the western edge, and 
watched him while he angled. Only one trout rewarded 
his trouble, which he threw into the bottom of the boat. 
Several white flashes at the end of his raised line, however, 
told the shiners or minnows were abroad. These elfin 
members of the fish tribe, with all their delicate, silver- 
scaled armor, only excited Harvey's contempt, and he 
either flirted them back into the stream with "dang the 
minnies," or kept them " for bait." Indeed, I had noticed 
early that Harvey was wanting in a sense of the beautiful, 
he regarding a trout as a trout, without reference to the 
golden bronze and rubies in which it glittered. I remarked 
about its beauty to him once. He had just cut off a por- 
tion of "ladies twnst" with his dark jack-knife, and he 
answered, as with great gusto he placed the morsel into his 
mouth, that " 'twas all well enough, but a trout 'ud be jest 
as good eatin' ef its color was like a tadpole's." As the 
remark was true enough, I said no more. So with a radiant 
wild flower to -which I called his eye one day, so rich it 
shed a gleam on the water, and turned a passing water- 



127 

fly into a gem. " Them things 'ud make right good greens 
b'iled," said he, " and muxed up with a leetle inion and 
vinegar they'd go good raw." 

As for the tints of sky, cloud, and water, the purple 
films of distance, and the picturesque beauty of near pros- 
pects, they were entirely beneath his notice. 

Forward we went again, over a surface gleaming with 
the colors of the wood-duck's back. 

I looked at the trout in its splendid blazonry, and the 
golden-eyed water-lily in its creamy silver lying beside it, 
and thought with what little reference to man exists the 
greater part of the Deity's creation. Some things appear 
to be made for his use, but what myriads of others, grand 
and beautiful, have no connexion with him or his presence. 
The trout and the lily glitter generally in the solitude. 
The graceful deer, the forest waving in curves of matchless 
beauty, the billow splintering on lonely shores, the grandeur 
stretching from inaccessible peaks ; all these ask not the 
eye of man to admire them. And yet he thinks the world 
made specially for him ! instead of being but one of the 
myriad expressions of the Creator, one of the links in the 
infinite series of creation. All, from the constellations to 
the mote, are but portions of that mantle which the inscru- 
table I Am wraps around Him for His own purposes. 

The tender tints tremble away into the soft pearl of the 
deepening twilight. Solitude and silence reign. No move- 
ment save our own. Even Harvey seems impressed with 
the quietude, for he is musing while he rows. 

A distance of two miles from Stony Brook brought us to 
Calkins' clearing, our goal for the night. We found the 
boats of the company at the margin, and securing our own, 
after tasting the spring upon the bank, we ascended the 
rough clearing in the grey of the evening to the log hut 
that crowns it. 

My comrades had found the hut alone, had taken posses- 
sion, and were gathered near the door where two fires were 
blazing. 



128 

Log outhouses were each side the hut, with a cleared 
ridge in front sloping into a natural meadow on the wind- 
ing Racket, and an upland in the rear. The whole was 
walled with forest, in some places touched red with an 
old burning. 

I immediately found the fires were necessary to repel 
the musquitoes. In fact, if the whole clearing had been 
kindled it would scarce have sufficed. 

Gaylor and Ralph stood by one fire, and Bingham and 
Coburn by the other. The first were performing a tragic 
pantomime ; slapping their foreheads, beating their breasts, 
and almost tearing their hair. The last were in the comic 
spasms. Bingham's knees cringed as Coburn's shoulders 
hitched. Then Bingham's arms tossed wildly and Coburn's 
hands dashed still more wildly over his person wherever 
they could hit. Kow Bingham shook his head as if to let 
his brains loose, and now Coburn struck up a perfect hys- 
teric of motion as if every muscle and nerve had begun a 
dance of its own, and would end in running bodily away 
with him. 

As for myself, preferring musquitoes alone to musquitoes 
and smoke, I struck down into the dark grey clearing. 
The evening was warm and close, and the thickening gloom 
had shaded away the outlines of bush, stump, and tree. The 
owls were shouting at the tops of their voices. 

While sauntering along, I came upon Mart Moody shap- 
ing out a paddle. I watched ■ his work ; at last he looked 
up and spoke. 

"Is that you, Mr. Smith? The woods as well as the 
flies is in full blast to-night. Did ye ever hear a painter 
sing out ? H-e-c-h !" (giving a horrid scream.) " And here's 
the wolf" (with a howl so that Watch bounded forward with 
a yelp) ; " the deer" (imitating perfectly their heavy inde- 
scribable whistling) ; " and the bear" (with a snarl and growl 
that made me jump involuntarily backward) ; "" but I guess 
you never heerd a moose beller," uttering a sharp roar 
that startled the woods into an echo. 



129 

" Why, Mart ! you're an artist !" said I. 

" There's a good many sounds in my throat," answered 
he complacently. " Here's the loon, and the raven and 
the eagle and the hawk," producing in succession the 
sounds of the several species he mentioned. 

He then continued his work, while I strolled farther 
down into the glimmering meadow. 

I fancied the sublimity of possessing what alone belongs 
to the Deity ; an existence, the idea of which is given in the 
scriptural expression, " a thousand years are as one day." 
To see light leaving some immeasurably distant orb for 
this earth ; its splendor moving on, on, on, through what 
would be to mortals centuries upon centuries ; on, on, cleav- 
ing the startled darkness until it reaches its goal — to mark 
the formation of a world, the first throb of chaos, the 
mingling of the elements into the spinning orb, the with- 
drawal of those elements to their appropriate spheres and 
their elaboration into the perfect world — to note the march 
of events over our earth, the progress of the forest to the 
empire, decay drawing its grassy mantle over the latter ; 
new empires rising and Time successively crushing them 
under his tread ; while swarms upon swarms of life, human, 
animal and vegetable, glance and disappear — such is the 
sublime existence of God, and such the eternity of the 
past and the future under His eye ; — all one immeasurable 
present I 

What a Being ! self-existent, self-sustained I His habi- 
tation that magnificent system of universes, in which our 
own cluster is only one of the myriad pillars and our world 
a tiny leaf of its capital. And yet amid all the wonders He 
has created, none is more wonderful than the human soul, 
boundless as eternity, yet enclosed with all its divine attri- 
butes in a frame fragile as the leaf that May calls into exist- 
ence for October to waft into its grave. Grand thought ! 
The loftiest archangel that smites the sunbeam with superior 
lustre has no more enduring existence than the lowliest 
beggar that dies in the winter storm unsheltered as the dog 

6^ 



130 

beside him, and nameless as the snow-flakes that stream 
around him in the blast. 

And yet what an infinite distance between man and his 
Maker; between the Creator and the mightiest created! 
Yea, the stately suns that with systems for their diadems 
tread in gorgeous march through the countless ages along 
the illimitable spaces, approach no nearer the essence of the 
Father than the swarming animalcules that live and die in 
a single drop of water, approach in splendor and duration 
to the suns. 



131 



CHAPTEK XII. 

A Rainy Day on the Racket — Down to Folingsby's Brook. — Folingsby's 
Pond. — Bingham and the Ducks. — Captain Folingsby. 

We retired to rest at an early hour. Ralph and Gaylor 
occupied the lower room, Bingham, Coburn, and I ascended 
by a ladder to the loft, and the guides took sleeping apart- 
ments outside. 

The lighted pine-knot which one of us held brought out 
in dark crimson relief the slanting roof, five feet at its high- 
est and three at its lowest height ; a row of bunks filling 
one half the floor and a pile of potatoes the other. A little 
window gleamed in the rear. A stifling air pervaded the 
loft and — what can I say of the musquitoes, except that 
they composed (almost) the very air itself. 

We laid ourselves, however, upon the straw of the bunks, 
after demolishing the window panes and letting in a stream 
of fresh air, and tried to sleep. 

In a few moments Coburn caracoled from the bunk and 
stampeded, followed, after a short series of ground and 
lofty tumblings on his mattress, by Bingham. 

As for myself, thinking that as there was greater space 
outside, there was more room for the musquitoes, I armed 
myself with a kind of heroic despair and — let the fiends 
bite. They could not do so more than one night through, 
and I thought my blood might possibly stand that. " Tired 
nature " at last subsided into a kind of a trance — a sort of 
transparent sleep, in which I solemnly afl&rm I beheld a 
huge masquito stalk into the room droning like a buzz saw. 
Fastening his great glaring blood-thirsty globes on my un- 
fortunate person, he made as if to plant his horrible pump 



182 

on my face. I started up, and found the little square of 
the window grey in the daybreak. 

There was a humming too on the roof as of a million 
musquitoes, as well as a dampness in the loft which told of 
rain. I arose and looked out. Sure enough there were 
the now familiar streaks glancing athwart the wall of forest 
and against stump, tree, bank, and hollow of the clearing. 
Another rainy day ! I descended to the lower room, and 
there found my comrades and the guides. 

After a hasty breakfast we decided, rather than loiter in 
that dreary clearing, to push on to where Folingsby's 
Brook entered the Racket, and there camp. 

We embarked once more. I had donned my India rub- 
ber, and the thick tent blanket, and bade defiance to the 
storm. 

Down we all swiftly flew, I catching glimpse through 
the misty air of the forward boats and occupants as we 
turned some bend ; now of a stern with Gaylor leaning 
back ; now of a broadside with Cort's flashing oar and 
Bingham bending to a rake of rain ; now of Coburn hud- 
dling in the middle of his craft, and now of Renning dipping 
a vigorous paddle. 

Past the bald hemlock flowing with moss like an old 
bearded prophet ; past the mined elm, its top tilting to our 
ripple and raising dimples in the water; past the grey 
finger of the skeleton pine — finger pointing to the centuries 
that have rolled over the forest ; past the water-maple's 
peristyle of pillars upholding the blended dome ; past the 
ledge green with moss as an emerald ; past the tongues of 
the banks thrust far into the channel, and the coves of hol- 
lowed foliage where the duck dimly seen had doubtless cast 
anchor for the day ; past the old oak hardened into iron 
like the trees of Jarnvid, and wreathed into green softness 
by the moss ; past the trunk wrestling on the border with 
some strangling grapevine, a Laocoon of the wood ; past 
the black sunken log where the ripples undulated ; past the 
windy pebbles in the channel where the rain launched its 



133 

fiercest lash, we swept along. On either hand frowned 
the aboriginal wilderness — a wilderness like that which 
walled Hudson as he tracked up his river ; which darkened 
on Champlain as he coasted down his lake ; where no axe 
but the one clearing space for the camp shanty had ever 
rung, no smoke had ever curled save that breathed by the 
camp fire ; close-twined save at the beautiful green open- 
ings, grassy nests of the forest, tempting one to make 
there a home where existence should glide along in sylvan 
peace. 

But little life was abroad. On the sandbank at the 
Three Corners a tall crane was standing as if in mute soli- 
loquy over his prospect of a fish dinner, and at Wolfs 
Point by the Four Corners we saw the white brush of a 
deer glancing into a thicket. At "Buck Slew," where the 
bleaching skull of the enormous deer shot there by Harvey 
(he naming the slough from the circumstance), glistened 
from the alders, a mink leaped through the foliage. 

Just after we had turned the Little Oxbow my eye was 
caught by another of those objects I have before men- 
tioned ; the enormous nest of a fishhawk in the antlers of a 
dead pine, cutting against a background of dark purple 
cloud. 

The rocks of the Three Sisters looked grim in the grey 
air as we glided by, but The Emerald (the little grassy 
island close by) looked in the polishing rain bright as the 
gem whence its name was taken. 

At one of the spring brooks flowing into the river my 
comrades had stopped to try the trout. Having caught a 
number before we came, they started down with us, all 
checking progress at the mouth of another brook. Although 
success rewarded our efforts, we found fishing in the rain 
too much like the Chinese method of swimming under 
water to capture ducks, so we pushed onward. 

The afternoon was advancing as we came abreast the 
wild meadow at our left or south bank of the Racket, where 
Folingsby's Brook entered. 



134 

The cheerful hack of the axe was echoing as we landed. 
Corey and Little Jess had preceded the party, as usual, to 
select our camping spot, and had commenced clearing on a 
knoll west of the meadow, and at the mouth of the brook. 

As if vexed at our coming escape, and to give it to us 
while it had us, the rain now fairly poured. But tree after 
tree fell before the guides; poles were planted; saplings 
shortened into stubs ; and presently the tent was reared and 
secured by the looped and knotted ropes. 

Meanwhile we " lookers on" sheltered ourselves as well 
as possible in the hollow trees, under jutting ledges and 
dense cedars, and in grottoes of hanging hemlocks. 

A glorious fire shed a glow over the dripping scene, and 
we enjoyed its warmth and radiance until we could enter 
the tent, which we soon did. The ground covered with 
dead pine needles absorbing the rain, formed a compara- 
tively dry floor to our little dwelling. The fire played 
over our variously tinted blankets, gleamed on our India 
rubber coats, powder flasks, and shot belts, hung along the 
slender tent rafters; upon the brass reels and rings of our 
rods, and along our rifles and fowling pieces ; kindling bits 
of color and flashes of light all over our pleasant apart- 
ment. 

The opened curtain of the front framed another picture. 
Stems seamed and smooth, dark, mottled and grey, columned 
a part of the view, with the newly prostrate trees heaping 
another. The falling axes of the guides glittered, and their 
red hunting shirts glowed in the firelight. Below the 
knoll a bright background was made of the rain-freshened 
meadow grass tinted with brilliant water weeds. 

Just before sunset, following a shower which came tram- 
pling over the woods, river, and meadow at our front, and, 
beating our tent as with tin}^ flails, went roaring away in 
the rear, a gleam of fluid gold shot over the scene. The 
remaining drops were transmuted into a sparkling sheet 
flung athwart the dark landscape, like the silver veil over 
the brow of Mokannah, and a streak of tender blue opened 



135 

above the western trees. Splendid tints flashed over the 
clouds ; a cool breeze poured liquid balm around ; each 
tree shook off its glancing gems, like a deer after a bath, 
while the whole landscape breathed the freshest fragrance. 

Shortly, a jocund crew were we, around the usual table 
on the sylvan floor in front of the tent. 

Lo, the treasures of that table ! 

Piles of trout, their crusted skin cracking open from the 
dark golden flesh ; flakes of venison richly browned and 
swimming in ruddy juices ; partridges showing their white 
dainty substance ; ducks, their juicy breasts distilling 
red nectar ; curls of crisp potato chippings, brittle biscuits, 
Indian cakes like sponges, and tea, a real cordial. 

At dark Bingham took Cort and went on a night hunt 
down the river. The rest of us preferred remaining in 
camp. 

I wandered a short distance into the woods. Overhead 
were broken streaks of sable sky, the stars seeming to cling 
to the tree tops and struggle through the higher branches. 
I could see a few black trunks close round me, but the rest 
were lost as in a dungeon. Ebon masses told the near 
thickets. Not a stir; not a breath. So dead the silence 
the Eunic fetter of Gleipnir might have been woven from it. 
Spots of ghastly glare showed the phosphorescence of the 
decayed logs and stumps. There seemed at last a weird influ- 
ence, a frowning horror in the murky depths. If phan- 
toms had appeared I should scarcely have been startled. 

From where I stood the mighty wilderness extended 
threescore miles unbroken either way, motes of cabins in 
specks of openings alone excepted. 

At length I returned, and the gleam of the camp-fire, the 
movements of the guides around it, the tent, the cheerful 
voices of my companions within, all casting that social 
spell so congenial to our nature, restored the equilibrium 
of my spirits. The gloom dissolved ; the feeling of isola- 
tion fled away ; I was again one of the family of man. 

In about two hours Bingham returned. 



136 WOODS AND waters; 

He had been unlucky as usual, tlie perverse deer keep- 
ing purposely from his rifle. " The fact is, gentlemen, 
they know the light of the jack just as well as Ralph here 
knows how to take a glass of punch, and no more can be : 
said on the subject. Cort, make me a glass of punch !" 

The morning arose fresh and radiant from her bath as did I 
Aphrodite from the sea. The rose tints of dawn faded ; the 
summits of the far hills warmed into purple ; the tops of 
the trees brightened into gold. A little while and the sun i 
was kindling the bushes, low rocks, and logs into yellow ' 
life, and then picking out the sprouts and dead leaves, until 1 
all was one broad illumination. 

We were now to explore the beauty of Folingsby's Pond I 
unknown to my comrades, and of course to me, but painted I 
in strong colors by the guides. 

We rowed one after another up the crooked brook or [ 
outlet, which flows in a north-westerly direction. At either r 
hand was an expanse of wild meadow with wooded accli- 
vities. The sunlight lay like a golden mantle on the mea- 
dow embroidered at the edges by the shadows of the hills. 

The light tinged the adder's tongue into a deeper purple, 
and made a red intaglio of the Indian Plume fitting into 
some cranny of the bank. 

The brook narrowed as we ascended, with thickets and 
broad tufts of wild grass in the channel, until it dwindled to 
a mere streak doubling and twisting like a water-snake striv- ■ 
ing to hide in the herbage of the meadow. Side cul-de-sacs ■ 
enticed the boats, whence they were obliged to back once 
more into the channel, through which now and then they 
were forced by main strength over the sand and rushes 
having but a film of water upon them. The oars of the 
party had been abandoned almost from the first for the 
paddle, Harvey alone clinging to his until the blades 
more often slid over the borders than touched the water. 

The stake driver rose awkwardly from her seat in the 
long, coarse grass of the bank, and fanned heavily away 
with a hoarse cry, the light touching her brown slender 



137 

shape; that feathered bufifoon, and peculiarly American 
bird, the blue jay, sent from the hills his peevish trumpet- 
ings, and the hawk sailed the blue as if he delighted in the 
freshness of the morning. 

" Them stake-drivers 's a queer thing," said Harvey. 
" They make a noise like drivin' posts in wet ground. 
You hear it all over, and yit can't fix it to one spot." 

At last, on turning a bend, a broad sheet of water burst 
upon us — Folingsby's Pond — expanding from the brook 
with a suddenness almost startling. It lies north-westerly, 
in an angular course with a succession of points either side 
of its five or six bays ; is without an island, and has a length 
of three miles, with a breadth of two. Hilly forests slope 
to the water's edge unbroken by a clearing, and unstained 
by the red hues of fire or the grey of withered trees. Upon 
entrance, a headland rounding blunt to the lake like an 
eagle's beak arrests the eye with a rock like a huge duck 
in the water before it. 

Harvey again betook himself to the oars, and, in the 

wake of the other boats, laid his course swiftly through the 

pond. At the head, where the shores are low and swampy, 

Eenning and Gaylor, true to their instincts, began prying 

for trout around the mouth of the inlet that came crawling 

; zigzag through the alders and swamp willows. Dropping 

I here, flinging there, they teazed the lazy water for a half- 

I hour in vain. Not a trout even the length of a finger 

[ rewarded them. At last Renning tried the fly. Skipping 

it over the broad parts, specking the sleepy pools with it, a 

[ little more time elapsed with evidently oozing patience on 

I the part of the unlucky angler. Meanwhile Gaylor was 

working up the inlet, his grey coat glancing like a heron 

in and out of the water bushes. 

A croak from a lazy bullfrog now and then sounded by 
a lily -pad, while the eager, brassy deer-fly buzzed around 
our ears and occasionally lighted with a tingle on our 
hands. 

" Come, gentlemen !" at length said Bingham, addressing 



138 WOODS AND WATERS; 

Coburn and myself, the former of wliom had squatted him- 
self on a surly old log thrusting its nose from the dark 
mud of the margin ; " aren't you tired of the antics of 
these two great fishermen. There's but little venison in 
the camp, and Cort says there's a good chance of a deer in 
Grassy Bay, around the next point. And you know, 
gentlemen " (presenting his piece as if to fire), " if my rifle 
covers a deer, it's good-bye to Mr. Deer. Come, Coburn, 
you look on that log more like a huge frog than a human 
being, wake up. Come, Smith ! you can't snap twigs in 
the boat, thank fortune ! so come along ! We'll leave these 
two knights of the rod, whose ideas in this grand wilderness 
never soar above a trout, to the exciting pastime of whip- 
ping water-flags and catching old sunken roots, and we'll 
catch a deer, eh, Cort !" 

We left Renning on a green bog where he was unable to 
stand still long enough to catch a trout from fear of sinking 
to his waist, and dancing in consequence from one leg to 
the other as if in a nest of snapping turtles, while Gaylor 
was crawling back round a mid-channel bush like an otter 
after its prey. 

Rounding the point and reaching into the depths of the 
bay, we looked narrowly into the thickets of the shore 
for the tawny hues that tell the deer, but none were dis- 
covered. 

" Shall I let Watch go ?" said Harvey. 

" I think not," said Coburn, interrupting Bingham, who 
was giving assent. " Our stay at the pond will be too 
short for that." 

" We'll hev chances enough too at Simon's Slew and Tap- 
per's Lake fur drivin', on second thoughts," said Harvey. 
" Mr. Runnin and Mr. Gaylor expecks to be back to camp 
afore sundown sarten^ so as to try a brook down the river." 

"That's always the way!" said Bingham, pettishly; 
" everything has to yield to trout in this party. A deer is 
no more thought of than a chipmunk. That's the reason I 
never kill — hem — that is — but by the powers, it's raining l'* 



OR, THE S ARAN ACS AND RACKET. 189 

Sure enough the golden scene had become grey. One 
of the prowling showers of the region had stolen upon us, 
and light, watery threads were glimmering against the 
broad breasts of the hemlocks and cedars, and athwart the 
dark cavities of the woods. 

*' It won't be much of a rain," said Bingham, covering 
the lock of his rifle with his coat ; " and maybe it will 
rouse up the deer from the thickets." 

At this instant a loud, mocking, taunting shout burst 
from the middle of the pond where the mist of the shower 
had already enclosed a narrow horizon. 

" Uncle loon says diff'rent!" exclaimed Harvey. 

" Confound him I" said Bingham, gasping his rifle ; 
"where is he?" 

" Round the p'int there !" answered Harvey. 

" Give me a chance at him," said Bingham. 

Another war whoop. 

'Til stop his yell," continued Bingham; " pull round, 
Harvey !" 

Down came the rain like a cataract. The narrow circle 
of the pond bubbled and frothed like a kettle over a fire. 

A clear, bold, ringing, clarion sound broke from the 
mist. 

" Clear out !" said Bingham. 

The burst of rain lasted until it had smitten us through 
and through, and then ceased as suddenly as it came. It 
stopped so quick that the middle drops didn't know it, but 
kept patting the water for several moments later. 

The trees again struggled out from the near fog ; the far 
wreaths grew transparent and melted. From a vanishing 
curl appeared the boats of Renning and Graylor rapidly 
gliding towards the outlet. 

" We're going back to camp !" hallooed Renning, mak- 
ing a speaking trumpet of his hand. 

" I too," said Coburn to us. " This is rather poor sport. 
Push ahead, Phin !" and off he went. 

At this instant the base of the wooded acclivity in front 



140 

blazed into splendid colors. Higher they rose ; higher, 
higher ; they bent ; it seemed as if invisible spirits were 
forming an arch : downward the colors curved, down, down, 
until they linked themselves once more to the edge of the 
water. 

" Well," exclaimed Bingham, " I never saw a rainbow 
grow before." 

It had built itself before our very eyes, and now glowed 
there upon the background of the hill, beautiful as Bifrost 
before the portals of Valhalla. 

It held its gleaming being, with a paler bow above it, 
longer than is wont, but at last the fainter arch died away ; 
the superb colors of the other commenced slowly to dim, 
until dissolving gently, the bright messenger of returning 
sunshine vanished like some returning seraph from our 
view. 

"We were now abreast the blunt headland and rock, 
where the lymph was so clear I could see the white sticks 
at the deep bottom twisting like water-snakes. 

" Suppose we follow the rest to camp," said Bingham. 
" I dont believe we'll find any deer, and there's nothing 
else I care for — Jupiter, see those ducks ! a flock of them, 
by the living Mars ! Pull, Cort, pull ! and give me a shot I 
pull, pull ! let me get any sort of a chance at them, and if 
you don't see slaughter I'm a donkey !" grasping the pad- 
dle and bending his tall form in deep, long plunges. 
" More speed, more speed, Cort ! I say, Smith, we'll have 
some duck for supper, hey ! Pull away, Cort, pull away I !| 
How the little devils scud ! A mother and ten young 
ones! Pull, pull! Hurrah for ducks on Folingsby's 
Pond !" 

" Ef you holler so, Mr. Bingham, now you've got so 
cluss, you wont git no ducks 1" at last said poor Cort, pant- 
ing with his exertions and his face streaming. 

" Don't I know that," said Bingham, looking at his caps, 
and then aiming as the flock huddled close a short distance ( 
ahead. "Oh, confound them! there they go again!" 



141 

And go tliey did, the cluster breaking away like beads 
with the string broken, and all scouring over the grey sur- 
face. 

Once more we approached, and once more away they 
scudded, making the water white as they went. 

"They'll git off, Mr. Bingham, after all. They aint 
forty rod from shore." 

" I ki;>ow it; and how the little rogues skip," said Bing- 
ham. " There they go !" and the flock struck the margin 
and vanished into a thicket like a flash. 

" You may git 'em yit, Mr. Bingham !" said Harvey, 
' ef you'll land, and beat round a leetle. I kinder guess 
you'll find 'em under some log or bush. They aint gone 
fur, that's sarten !" 

" Harvey, you're a trump I" said Bingham, making one 
stride to shore. 

The rest of us remained in the boats, l^ow and then a 
snap or rustle in the woods told that Bingham was ferret- 
ing around. A minute or two succeeded. The near shout 
of a loon echoed ; the flashing dragon-fly again threaded the 
water plants or darted in startling angles over the shallow; 
and the lake stretched away in dazzling whites and cool 
breezy darks, quiet as if nothing had ever disturbed it. 

Another rustle and in a cleft of the foliage, a huge boot 
and a long leg appeared followed by what proved to be the 
whole of Bingham. Leaning his left hand on a hemlock, 
with his forehead ruffled up and his eyeballs distended, 
he peered around a moment and then glided silently 
away. 

Bang, bang, and a terrible tumult in the water. 

" By the powers ! didn't I say so !" in Bingham's loudest 
tones. " Four, as I'm alive, four ' in one fell swoop,' or 
rather two, as I fired both barrels ! I'd had the whole 
flock if I'd had another gun," 

We pulled around a little rocky point, and there, in a 
beautiful covert of white sand, lay four white-breasted 
ashen- winged copperhead ducks. The bright orange legs 



14:2 WOODS 

of one beside the grey ones of the rest showed the mother 
of the brood. 

" I found them sitting in a row as close and cosy as you 
please ; quite a family party," continued Bingham, while Cort 
threw them into the box, which was fashioned at the bow 
of the boat. " There they were quacking and putting their 
heads together as if in serious conversation over their 
escape. Cort, where's my flask ? " entering the boat. 
" We'll all take a drink on these shots of mine, eh. Smith ! 
here, drink my boy ! a good shot, Smith ! here, Harvey, 
take some! Cort, help yourself I a pret-ty good shot, eh, 
boys ! and now I'm ready to follow to the camp ! Go 
ahead, Cort !" 

" Suppose we go around the pond first," said I. "It is 
a beautiful sheet of water." 

" Yery well ! I'm up to any thing now I Go ahead 
Cort !" 

We then took the circuit. We rounded the bays ; 
brushed the herbage of the headlands and pierced the 
grottoes of the leaning trees. Now we caught glimpse of 
a duck skulking into the water-flags ; and now we startled 
into the air a crane watching the water behind a point. 
Then, after loosening the echoes with three ringing cheers, 
we left the lovely pond, and threaded the twisted silver of 
the brook by sunset to the camp. 

I afterwards gleaned some particulars of the mysterious 
personage who had given the pond its name, from those 
conversant with the traditions concerning him, and espe- 
cially from one who was accidentally present at his death. 

Captain Folingsby, as he was called, was a strange, 
melancholy man, of an age almost impossible to determine. 
From several indications he appeared to be in the meridian 
of life, but his hair was grey, and his frame, though massive 
and sinewy, was bowed. 

He lived, forty years ago, in a shanty of thickest logs, 
built, as he stated, by his own hands, in the rear of the 
blunt headland. The whole region at that time had no 



143 

residents, except here and there a red man, and was un- 
known save to the white hunter or trapper who straggled 
into it from the Lower Ausable or Lake Champlain. 

No one knew when Folingsby came. A wandering trap- 
per who visited the secluded waters (more secluded proba- 
bly from the difficulty of ascending the shallow and wind- 
ing brook) saw the shanty already erected. He was told 
of Folingsby's existence by an Indian whom he met at the 
mouth of the brook, and who had just seen, for the first 
time, the strange white man fishing in the pond. 

Entrance into the shanty was only allowed to those driven 
thither by stress of weather. A lock of great strength and 
curious intricacy secured the massive door, and the one win- 
dow was furnished with a thick, oaken shutter. 

While at home Folingsby passed most of his time on the 
pond with his rod, or in the woods with his rifle. Some- 
times he launched into the adjacent region, penetrating now 
and then to great distances. 

The hunter at the head waters of the Upper Saranac 
saw him bearing his bark canoe over some carry, or skim- 
ming some water ; the Indian trapper among the ponds of 
the St. Regis in search of the beaver, caught glimpses of 
him, rifle in hand, stalking through the surrounding 
forests. 

Thus he bestowed his name on other sheets of water 
besides this pond — Folingsby's Clear Pond, near the head 
of the above lake, and Folingsby's Pond in the St. Regis 
woods. 

A trapper, whose sable line ran by the pond, was weather- 
bound one day in Folingsby's cabin. The recluse talked 
but little, appearing to be generally sunk in gloomy medi- 
tation, and occasionally moving his lips as if in soliloquy. 
He showed, however, no want of hospitality ; on the con- 
trary, he produced his finest trout and venison for the 
trapper's repasts. The trapper said afterward in effect, 
that what most impressed him, was the lordly authority 
which diff*used itself, as it were, from Folingsby's presence. 



144 WOODS AND WATERS; 

There was a grace and refinement too, in his movements 
and actions, especially at the meals, which made the rude 
trapper feel "as though" (in his own language) "he 
wasn't no man at all, but a kind o' half nigger all the 
time." 

When the storm passed, the trapper left, Folingsby ac- 
cepting his simple thanks with the condescending kindness 
of a king. 

A year or two passed, when one October day a sports- 
man from a village on the eastern edge of the wilderness, 
visited the pond with an Ausable trapper, in search of 
fisher. 

Passing the cabin they heard a loud voice talking rapidly, 
interrupted by hoarse screams. They broke in the door 
after great exertion, and found Folingsby stretched on his 
bed of bear-skins, and delirious with fever. 

Unable to aid him, all they could do was to listen to his 
ravings, and restrain him in his occasional fits of insane 
strength. 

His wild talk made them wonder and occasionally shud- 
der. Sometimes he seemed addressing himself to high per- 
sonages. Lord this and General that ; sometimes to one he 
called Georgiana, and he would then break into mingled 
curses on her and on one whom he called villain and de- 
stroyer. His tones would, however, sometimes melt to 
tenderest music while mentioning her ; but his mood would 
again change, and exclamations of "wretch" and "weak 
wicked creature " would flit through his ravings in accents 
of the most horrible hate. 

Blood, blood, was then his theme, and from what the 
hearers could gather, his hands had been imbrued in the : 
blood of both victim and destroyer. 

Then he would fancy himself in battle, calling upon his 
men to follow him, and hurling scorn on all cowards who : 
would desert their leader. His bearing at those times, the 
sportsman said, was bold and majestic, something as he 
supposed Washington's might have been in some great 



145 

fight; Folingsby whirling his hand over his head as if 
waving a sword and striking out right and left. 

He also muttered broken words about a chest, rolling his 
mad eye, and once or twice pointing his lean finger toward 
the stone fire-place, and he would then huddle up his bear- 
skins as if to conceal some object. 

All through the day and night he raved, and at dawn 
he died, the name of Georgiana the last sound upon his 
lips. 

The two wrapped him in his bear-skins and buried him 
in a neighboring dingle, planting a pair of rude stones at 
his grave. 

They then explored the cabin. It was composed of two 
rooms, with loop-holes, the front one having the window. 
Nothing was seen in either, beside the bear-skin bed, but a 
rude bench or two, an arm-chair of roots, two or three 
rifles, with wooden angle-rods and their apparatus, axes, 
hunting-shirts, with other coarse clothing, and a few culi- 
nary utensils of the roughest description. The exclama- 
tions concerning the chest, however, stimulated farther 
search, and under a stone of the hearth they discovered in 
a cavity, a strong wooden chest. Within, was a magnificent 
sword in a gold scabbard, with a gold hilt, sparkling in 
diamonds and impressed with something which, as well as 
I could gather from the description, was a coronet. There 
was also a brace of pistols, the stocks of rich, polished wood, 
mounted in silver, and inlaid with pearl, and stamped like- 
wise with the coronet. 

A scented dressing-case was also within, with gold and 
gemmed articles of toilet; a little cabinet of glossy and 
fragrant wood ; a splendidly decorated uniform coat of the 
British scarlet, with gorgeous epaulets, and a gold laced 
chapeau. 

At the very bottom was a package of letters. Some were 
signed Georgiana ; were addressed to her dear Hubert, 
and filled with expressions of love, with details domestic 
and otherwise. The sportsman (who was an educated and 

7 



146 WOODS AND waters; 

intelligent man) was struck with some things in these let- 
ters, tending, as he thought, to throw a little light upon 
Folingsby. She mentioned in one, the arrival from the 

Peninsula of her Hubert's wounded friend. Lord , who 

brought her dear Hubert's letter ; and that he spoke of 
owing his life in a certain battle to her brave Hubert. In 

another, she mentioned that Lord was residing near 

the castle. In another that the Earl, her Hubert's father, 
was confined to the castle from his failing health. 

There was another letter of a subsequent date to the 
above, which appeared to be written by a high official of 
the British Government. It was addressed to Colonel, the 

Earl of , and in friendly and familiar terms, informed 

him of his approaching promotion for his distinguished 
gallantry in a certain battle ; the sportsman thought the 
battle of Salamanca. 

What became of the articles and letters the sportsman 
never definitely knew. They were replaced in the chest, 
together with the other articles, and transported by the 
two in their boat on their return course to the foot of the 
Lower Saranac, where they passed the night in the shanty 
of a hunter. In the morning the chest was missing. Whe- 
ther the trapper or the hunter made away with it the sports- 
man could not ascertain. The former asserted it was the 
latter. The letters were most probably used for wadding, 
and the other articles doubtless changed into rifles, traps, 
powder, ball, and other necessaries of wilderness life in some 
of the cities, or large villages, to which the hunters and 
trappers occasionally made their way. 

The strange circumstances that surrounded Folingsby 
invest him even to this day with mystery. The simple- 
minded woodmen visiting the pond still think his spirit 
inhabits it. In the misty days of Indian summer they 
imagine him glimmering in his boat off some point, or in 
some bay in pursuit of the trout, or gliding through some 
ravine of the hills in the track of the deer. In the sounds 
that echo over the calm sheet they hear his shout or the 



147 

report of his rifle. During the moonlight nights they have 
fancied glimpses of his form, now crouching under a tree 
on the bank gazing at the shining expanse, now moving 
around the spot where his remains were buried, and now 
shooting with his canoe athwart the golden glitter of the 
moon-glade. In the wailing night winds of November they 
recognise, while seated around the camp-fire, his tones of 
mourning, and occasionally his wild shrieks as the blast 
swells through the forest. 

A haunted place is Folingsby's Pond, and many the 
daring hunter or trapper who, laughing at every other 
peril, trembles as night environs him in its dreaded pre- 
cincts. 



148 WOODS AND WATERS; 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Down the Racket, — Old Ramrod. — Trout Fishing at Half-Way Brook. — A 
Water-Maple. — Cloud Pictures. — Woods in the Wind. — The Great Oxbow. 
— Ramrod's Shanty ; and Chase by Indians. — A Talk on Fishing, with the 
Opinion of the Guides about it. — A Night Scene on the River. 

Our camp was astir as the morning colors were kindled 
on the hills of Folingsby's Pond. The day promised to be 
fine, and soon onr tent was struck, Brook Meadow Camp 
deserted, and we afloat down the beautiful Racket. 

Down we went over the glossy greens, the glittering 
whites of the river ; down past elms and spruces and hem- 
locks and pines and water-maples and alders ; down past 
sand-banks and gravel-beds, sunken logs and slanting trees ; 
old withered upright trees and trees thrust midway into 
the channel where the water eddied and sparkled ; down 
past lily -pads and water-grasses, leafy arcades and cloisters, 
colonnades and peeping nooks; down past glades and 
swamps and lichened ledges and dry ridges brown with the 
dropped needles of the pine : 



*' Down the winding woodland river, 

Oh how swift we glide I 
Every tree and bush and blossom 

Mirrored in the tide ; 
Bright and blue the heaven above us 

As — whose azure eye ! 
Soft and sweet the wandering breezes 

As — whose gentle sigh ! 
White the cloudlet wreathing o'er us 

As her spotless brow ! 
Oh what king was e'er so joyous 

As we roamers now I 



149 

Ho, ho, we merrily go 

Down the winding sparkling flow ! 

Down so cheerily. 

Never wearily, 
Ho, ho, we merrily go 
Down to the lovely lake below ! 

" Mark the crane wide winnowing from us ! 
Off the otter swims ! 
Round her fortress sails the fish-hawk ; 

Down the wood-duck skims I 
Glitters rich the golden hly, 
Glows the Indian Plume, 
On yon point a deer is drinking, 

Back he shrinks in gloom ; 
Now the little sparkling rapid 1 

Now the fairy cove 1 
Here, the sunlight-mantled meadow I 
There, the sprinkled grove ! 
Ho, ho, we merrily go 
Down the winding glittering flow I 
Down so cheerily 1 
Never wearily ! 
Ho, ho, we merrily go 
Down to the lovely lake below!" 

" There was an old feller," said Harvey, breaking a half- 
hour's silence, and pointing to a little green opening be- 
tween a couple of cedars, " that shantied out there some 
twenty years ago, who was old hunderd in the way o' 
huntin'. We used to call him Old Eamrod, and a cur'ous 
old critter he was too. When he fust come to the river he 
camped down on the Great Oxbow in a holler tree. 

"But couldn't he handle a rifle? I tell ye ! He could 
shoot inter a squirrel's eye! Why he al'ys cut off a 
patridge's head with a single ball ; that wan't no kind of 
a trick. All in the way of shootin' was inkstand to 'im. 
And he wasn't nobody's fool at trappin'. He had the 
greatest lot o' traps I ever did see. Bear-traps and wolf- 
traps and painter-traps and otter's and beaver's and what 
not. And he'd named 'm all too. There was Clapper- 
jaw, and Sticktooth, and Whangdown, and Big Billy, and 



150 

Little Billy, and Bear's Misery, and "Wolfclick and Bangup, 
and all sorts o' names. There wasn't no stream, nor slew, 
nor pond anywheres about this here part o' the country, 
but he knowed about as well as I know the S'nac Lakes 
and the Kacket. 

" He was about as big as a small sized moose that feller, 
and in the way o' wrastlin' — there's 'n orful sight o' deer 
tracks there ; the bank's cut up with 'm — he could throw 
all that I ever heerd on ; and when it come to fightin', 
w-a-a-1, he didn't sing psalms much when he was at that 
business. How he would strike! It 'peared to me that 
the very wind his fist made 'ud knock a common man 
down. 

" There was another feller, too, about, that was an orful 
critter to fight. But he didn't hev no rule for fightin'. 
He'd claw and he'd bite, and he'd jump up and strike his 
heels riglit agin your breast, like ^s not, jest like a boss, and 
run 'twixt your legs, and all sorts o' ways. He was a stout 
feller, too, silmost as stout as Old Kamrod ; and young ; — 
he wan't more'n twenty-five ef he was that. 

" Well, one day, there was a shootin' match at the settle- 
ment at Harrietstown — one Christmas day, for five fat 
turkeys. Old Kamrod was there and this feller — let me 
see — what was his name ? Snazy ! no ! Snar — Snowy I 
what the mischief! Snow, Snudgeon, Snack, Snew ! oh, 
Potter was his name ! we called him Foxtail 'case he al'ys 
wore a cap made o' that critter's fur, with the tail stuck up. 
Well, Foxtail had drinked consid'able and couldn't git no 
turkey. All he could do — see that bear track ! what an 
all fired big one 'tis ! there by them alders — he couldn't 
git no turkey. He was suthin^ of a shot too, that is, 
when he was himself When Foxtail was Foxtail he could 
shoot old hunderd, but there 'twas ; that day he couldn't 
git no turkey. Well, what riled him most was that Old 
Eamrod got two out o' the five. In the fust place, the rael 
truth on't was, he didn't like Old Kamrod a bit more'n a 
crow likes a raven, or a biuejee a hawk ! 'caze why ! ho 



OK, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 151 

was jealous of Old Eamrod as a fightin' charackter ; but he 
didn't do as the crow doos, keep away from the raven, but 
he jest up and stuck his blamed fool of a nose right inter 
Old Kamrod's face, jest as a passle o' bluejees will in a 
hawk's till the hawk jumps on one and gives 'im fits. But, 
as I was sayin'. Old Ramrod got two turkeys out o' the five, 
and he'd a got 'm all I spose ef he'd a tried, but he was a 
gin'rous old sarpent, and didn't want I spose to grab all on 
'm. Howsever, whether or no, this Foxtail, he got, as I 
said afore, -r'iled, and so he ups and says to Old Ramrod, 
s'ze, ' Some folks feels mighty farse about turkeys.' ' Well, 
no,' says Old Ramrod, s'ze, ' not as I knows on !' 

" ' Well,' says Foxtail, ' I kin lick any man on these 
grounds, turkey or no turkey.' Old Ramrod didn't say 
nothin', but he tuk a chaw of tobaccy. Says Foxtail, s'ze, 
* I don't ax no odds of no man ! I kin lick an-y m-a-n on 
these grounds, 'tickally one what gits two turkeys out o' 
five in a shootin' match.' Old Ramrod began to cock his 
eye, and I could see he was gittin' kinder riz, but he didn't 
say nothin' yit. Says Foxtail agin, s'ze, ' Folks says there^s 
an old critter called Ramrod about here that's some on tur- 
keys, and thinks he kin lick all cr'ation ; now I'm jest the 
chap for all the old Ramrods that kin be skeered up, and 
ef so be as the old critter wants an all fired lickin', I'm the 
b'y what kin do it, right square up to the handle, turkeys 
or no turkeys, hooray I' Didn't Old Ramrod jump ! I tell 
ye he had his old deer-skin shirt off in the twinkle of a 
deer's tail in a brush heap, and the way he throwed down 
his wolf-skin cap wasn't slow, now I tell ye ! Well, there 
he stood, and he drawed up his big old fists he did, and 
' Come on,' s'ze, ' I'm hungry,' s'ze, ' after jest such leetle 
chaps,' s'ze, ' as you be I' He hadn't sunner said that 'an 
Foxtail (he had his coat and cap off too) run up and gin a 
jump to jam his heels inter Old Ramrod's breadbasket, but 
the old feller kitched hold on one o' his heels and gin a 
swing, and, lick-a-my-dod ! didn't Foxtail turn over! I 
kinder consate he did ! about a rod ! and fell. I wonder 



152 

lie didn't break his consarned neck. Old Eamrod looked 
at 'im, as lie lay down there all quirled up in a heap, as I've 
seen Watch look at a leetle cur dog, and, s'ze, ' Landlurd,' 
s'ze, 'gimme suthin' to drink,' s'ze, 'I'm dry!' Well, after 
a while. Foxtail got up with his shoulder out 'o j'int, and 
you may b'leeve he let Old Eamrod alone after that. But 
here we are at Half- Way Brook !" 

This was one of the many streams emptying into the 
Eacket, at the mouths of which, in the late summer, the 
trout gather. 

My comrades were there busy at their fishing, and directly 
as we came up I saw the flash of a half-pound trout on 
Eenning's line. The broad deep pool at the brook's mouth 
was already too crowded, so I selected a spot at the side of 
the bank where a streak of bubbles glided *from a water- 
break and cast. My hook had scarcely touched the water 
before I felt the thrill of a trout's bite (very gentle in these 
waters), and up I whipped a half-pounder. Up glittered 
three more among my friends. Harvey cast in, and out 
came a fine speckled fellow of nearly the same size as mine. 
He commenced talking to the trout, as was his custom. 
" Now don't be too greedy ! Be decent and we'll sarve ye 
all alike. We don't make no odds 'twixt ye ! One's jeest 
as good as another. Leetle or big, it don't make no bit o' 
diff^'rence ! Unly come along ! By goll ! he's took my 
bait off as clean as a whistle ! That was a chubb, I know ! 
Yes !" jerking one up and swinging it with vast contempt 
into the river. " We might as well be goin' now ; when 
these ere reptyles, and minnies, and sich vagabones venter 
out, you may be sure there aint much trout about." 

Just as he caught the chubb, however, I had spied a dot 
of a pool under a sycamore root, where the bubbles of a 
little rapid had turned melting into a scale of froth. Cast- 
ing my line into its centre, another half-pound trout swung 
into my hand, smooth and luscious, and up flashed another' 
from the waterbreak on Gaylor's hook. After that, the busy 
tantalizing nibbles told us it was really as Harvey said, and, 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 153 

waging no war on the small populace of the river, and 
having in prospect two or three more tilts with the trout 
before we came to our camping-place, we desisted. 

" There's a path from Half- Way Brook," said Harvej, 
as we started again. " It leads through the woods to the 
Upper S'nac, a mile above the Gut to Bartlett's." 

" Are there many of these paths in the woods ?" 

" Not a dreffle sight. There's a passle o' lumber roads, 
but they're plain to see. In winter there's a grist o' roads 
made in the snow for lumb'rin. These paths though, what 
there is on 'm, is hard to hit. You might never find 'm, 
unless you stumbled on 'm, ef ye didn't know where to look." 

We all landed for our lunch in a little wild-grass' dingle, 
with a fringe of silver sand tasselled at the edge with 
arrowheads and rushes, mingled with Tyrian-dyed moose- 
heads and golden-globed lily blossoms. 

Close to us was a splendid water-maple with thirty trunks. 
The gold and blacks beneath it made a floor of mosaic. 

A kingfisher perched there before betaking himself to a 
dry overhanging limb at the margin, and gave a hoarse 
shout as if struggling with a bad cold caught from the 
damps of his business. A woodpecker followed him with 
a cracked laugh ; then began a rat-tat like a drummer mark- 
ing time, warming into a roll, and he then flew away. 

The lunch being finished, I lay within the shadow of 
the tree, and gazed on the sky-pictures. 

The blue was of that tender, transparent tint through 
which we seem to penetrate into unbounded depths, and 
over it the summer breeze wreathed its graceful cloud 
paintings. Now passed a turreted castle ; now a pillared 
palace ; then a fleet bore up ; then came knights on snowy 
steeds ; then a Spanish muleteer, an Arab on his camel, 
an Indian with his hatchet, a group of palm-trees ; and then 
a superb gleaming Himmalayan peak. 

At last my eyes ached with the lustrous images, and J 
bathed them in the soothing green below, watching thg 
motions of the woods in the wind. 



154 WOODS AND 

At a little distance an aspen shook as if to drop into 
pieces ; then a pine waved its emerald plume. An oak 
next trembled, and a tremor ran through a massive fir-tree. 
Next a maple turned up the whites of its Argus eyes as 
the Meadow-Sweet kissed the blushing Indian-Plume ; while 
the hemlock murmured through all its fringes at his lofti- 
ness forbidding a caress to the wild rose, which had opened 
her pink beauty directly beneath him. 

The breeze, after its run through the woods, betook 
itself, like a deer, to the water. It skimmed away like 
a great water-fly; then, after throwing a dark, ruffled 
mantle over the surface, it leaped into a white cedar and 
flitted off through the pulsating forest. 

I was at last aroused by a summons from Harvey, and 
hurrying to the boat, found my companions already in the 
stream. 

Down again we went, checking our course at the mouths 
of two or three spring brooks for the speckled prey. 

Passing a shingle weaver's camp, and threading the 
Rapids where a dozen rocks of differing sizes in the channel 
caused various currents and eddies, we came to the Great 
Oxbow. 

This is a two-mile sweep of the river around a long 
point. Across its base, however, the portage is scarcely 
more than a score of paces. 

We landed at the base, and drew the boat across, crush- 
ing the lush wood-plants into an emerald paste. Before 
launching again, we regaled ourselves on the whortle- 
berries, whose bluCj misty eyes glanced at us in every 
direction. 

" Folks gin'rally say the Oxbow or the Great Oxbow, 
when they talk o' this place; but there's two Oxbows. 
T'other one is out there cluss to this ; but it's a bad carry, 
and the boatmen don't never notice it," said Harvey. 

" There's bin a mighty thrashin' 'mongst the bushes 
here," continued he, glancing round. " The bears 'as bin 
here, that's sarten — ^yes, yes — there's the tracks ! But about 



155 

Old Eamrod, as I was a tellin' on ye," seating himself at 
the foot of a birch, I doing the same, " he made a good deal 
o' this place ; he camped here for some years ; and in his 
young days had lived here in a sort o' cave, or rather a 
holler in a big pine-tree, the biggest, 'cordin' to his tell, I 
ever see in these woods. You switched a thick cedar-bush 
a one side, and crawled inter a shelvin' place 'twixt the 
roots like a wood-chuck's hole, and there was a place 
in the body of the tree big enough to stand up in and walk 
a leetle about and lay down too, curled up, though, as a 
hound sleeps. Old Ramrod made two or three knot-holes 
in the tree bigger to give 'im air and light. They made 
good places to shoot from, too; and the St, Regis Injins 
bein' about the Racket in them days, these 'ere loopholes, 
as 'twere, stood him a good turn sometimes. 

" He was a great Injin fighter, was Ramrod, for he had 
an idee the Injins had no business comin' on the Racket to 
hunt and fish, as they had their own waters all round the 
Upper S'nac. 'Twas treadin' on his toes, so he was down 
on 'em, and got up a fight whensumever he could, 'tickelly 
when there wasn't more 'n two or three agin 'im. He pop- 
ped over all he could, and finally at last the Injins didn't 
never go on the Racket without expectin' a row with Old 
Ramrod or the Quick Wind, as they nicknamed 'im, 'caze 
he'd pounce so dreffle sudden on 'em with his rifle. The 
Injin for that name was Golly wolly ; and I guess that word, 
by goll, that I use so much, comes from it. Whether or 
no, one day, he, that is Old Ramrod, had been up to 
Folin'sby's Pond, and had fell agin a rock, so as to break 
the lock of his rifle. Well, he started torts hum, and jest 
as he rounded the left-hand p'int o' the brook down inter 
the Racket, what did he see but an Injin canoe hauled up 
on the bank. He got at the same time a squint o' two 
Injins crooched up like a couple o' mud-turtles, or like a 
couple o' black squirrels, we'll say, crackin' hickory nuts. 
The Injins, though, was a smokin' through them queer 
kind o' things o' theirn — hatchets hollered out in the 



156 

handle, with the bowl in the head. There they was, with 
their backs torts him. Well, he'd got fairty inter the 
Backet, and he was in hopes they wouldn't see 'im 't all, as 
two to one with rifles was too much odds for the old feller, 
farse as he was, when he hadn't got no rifle, or what was 
next to't, one that was broke. But jest as he was turnin' 
a bush, didn't they screech ! Did you ever hear a war- 
whoop, Mr. Smith? it's so (clapping his hand to his mouth, 
and playing it with a rapid motion) : hoo-oo-ooooooeee, hoo ! 
And as they sung out, they started for their canoe in sich 
a hurry that they didn't never think o' their rifles. Old 
Ramrod see the whull consarn, and he put to 't. Didn't 
he make his dug-out spin ! I tell you ! But he unly got 
clear by the skin of his teeth ; that is, by rushin' his canoe 
up, and dashin' crost with it to t'other side here (for the 
Injins didn't know this place, and kept straight on), and 
lickety splittin' it down'ards to Simon's Slew, where he 
hid a whull day in the bushes." 

Again we were on our downward way, and the sky 
began to burn in the colors of the sunset. The clouds had 
long been streaming towards the west, and now reared their 
gorgeous architecture, gold, purple, and crimson, radiant 
as the angel-ladder tha,t shone to the patriarch in his dream. 

" A glorious day we'll have to-morrow, Harvey, for 
Tupper's Lake," remarked I. 

Harvey shook his head. 

" Too much deep red agin, Mr. Smith !" said he. 
" There's rain in that sundown ; and hark ! hear them two 
cranes fly in' along there. All that jabberin' says jeest as 
plain as the sky doos, 'rain tomorrer.' But here's our 
campin' place for the night, and there's our folks all 
landed." 

The spot selected was a little green hollow on the right 
hand bank, with a spring sparkling from the roots of a birch 
along the dell's edge to the river. 

Before the rose had faded from the shreds of the zenith- 
clouds, the grassy plat began to have a home-look; a 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 157 

blazing camp-fire reddening up our tent, and the crotched 
sticks whereon hung portions of venison, with a cluster or 
so of trout, ducks, and partridges. In the thickening 
dusk, by pine-knot torches, we took our supper, and after 
a smoke under the hazy stars, my comrades retired to the 
tent for eucre. I strolled to the river-bank, and found 
three of the guides, with their pine-torches, around the 
boats. It was a striking scene ; the black walls of forest, 
the dark river dotted here and there with a star, relieved 
by pallid spaces caught on the sensitive surface from 
lighter portions of the sky, and flecked with the deep 
crimson of the torches under which a stone, a water-log, a 
ripple, a spot of lily-pads, a dipping bush, looked redly 
forth. The same dark-red lustre brought fitfully out a 
hunting-shirt, a bronzed face, a hand, an oar-blade, or the 
half hollow of a boat ; the whole presenting a picture of 
strange, flitting effects, worthy Kembrandt. 

I listened to the guides a moment. 

" There's a trout as is a trout," said one, lifting a two- 
pounder. " This mouth o' his'n is open as wide as a school- 
mam's a singin' Coronation." 

" I wonder ef we go to Tupper's Lake tomorrer ?" asked 
a second. " I'm a kinder hungerin' after Eedside or Grind- 
stone Brook, I don't keer which." 

" 'Twould be news to us ef ye ever stopped hungerin' 
after anything," said the first. " But hang it ! I've carried 
boat so much this summer, my neck's so hard a bear 'ud 
crack his jaw on't." 

" Say skull, and we'd all b'leeve ye!" retorted the hun- 
gerer. " I'll leave it to the company ef there ever was a 
time yet that this chap wasn't more fond o' lettin' suthin' 
run through his neck than carryin' ennything on't !" 

"Well, hooray, boys," exclaimed Harvey, "let's hurry 
up our work and make a sleep on't jest as soon as kin be. 
I'm consid'able tuckered out fur one, and I guess by tomorrer 
we'll all feel suthin' a-runnin' every where over us, ef I'm 
any judge when rain's a-comin'." 



158 WOODS AND waters; 

Entering the tent, I found my companions in a paroxysm 
of argument on one of the. political questions of the day, 
Gaylor and Eenning (as well as I could ascertain, from the 
hubbub) fighting off Bingham and Coburn. In a short time, 
Gaylor, having the weakest voice and the most modesty, 
and finding himself buried in the clamor, turned to me in 
a lowered tone, and then to Harvey (who had just made 
his appearance with an ejaculation of something about sup- 
per), finishing on him what he had to say in a sort of con- 
fidential aside. Eenning soon after made a grumbling 
retreat, evidently crippled, and Bingham and Coburn had 
the field to themselves. Then in following up their victory 
they fell out between themselves, each at length pummel- 
ling the other with hard assertions, and each voice striving 
to soar above the other, until a shout from Harvey that sup- 
per was ready sliced the battle short off, and sent all to the 
waiting trout and venison, now as cool as the argument had 
been flaming. 

As Harvey had once more predicted, rain came with the 
morning, confining us to the tent. In the desultory con- 
versation that after a while occurred, we all caught at last 
upon the topic of fishing, Eenning and Gaylor becoming 
exceedingly learned, and I thought rather tedious, in explain- 
ing the varieties of hooks and flies, and enlarging upon 
trolling, fishing at buoys, and what not. The guides 
seemed much interested in the discussion, listening with an 
air of great respect, while Eenning, leaving Gaylor behind, 
with an occasional glance at them, contrasted, fluently and 
enthusiastically, but (the truth must be owned) somewhat 
pompously, the merits of the different hackle flies, and 
hooks, reels, baits, rods, and so forth, until Bingham invo- 
luntarily commenced a whistle, which he, however, bit off, 
and even the faithful Gaylor showed by the swelling of his 
features that he was struggling with an inward yawn. Still 
the guides lingered and listened, nodding their admiration 
to each other, and retreated only when Eenning, fairly 
bothered with his own arguments, seemed hardly to know 



159 

which fly, hook, reel, bait, or rod, he most preferred him- 
self, and covered his confusion under the smoke of a fresh 
cigar. 

Happening shortl}^ after to pass along a thicket skirting 
the open tent of the guides, I became the involuntary 
depository of their reflections on Ralph's eloquence. 

" Dang my parsnips," said one on his breast, tossing up his 
leg and putting a hemlock twig in his mouth, " ef I didn't 
swell all up, I was so full o' laugh at Mr. Runnin's topsy- 
turvy talk about fishin'. How he did go on about his 
black flies, and grey flies, and green flies. Ef he likes flies 
so much, I wish he'd all on 'em to himself in this ere 
quarter o' the country." 

•' Talkin' o' black flies," said another, " it's my idee ef 
he'd got unly about a dozen o' them nips that I had from 
the black divils last June in Simon's Slew, he wouldn't 
want to see no more o' that color." 

" And as fur his reels, his plain and multiplyin', and 
Lord knows what all," said a third, " the unly reel I keer 
about is the Scotch reel, and the more multiplyin' that 
with a sarten schoolmam I knows on down at the settle- 
ment, the better for me !" 

Here old Harvey broke in. 

" I don't say there aint as nice men in the world as Mr. 
Runnin', but I do say there aint no nicer : he's old hunderd, 
that's a fact ; and he's good enough fur fishin' in the streams 
and brooks round in the settlements — that is fur what I 
know — but, massy, b'ys, I raally thought I should split 
when I heerd him agoin' on about his reels, and his rods, 
and his flies, and grubs, and so on. It doos make me 
cackle to see these city fellers bring out to S'nac their rods, 
lookin' as ef slicked all over with 'lasses, and all shinin' 
with brass, and their brass reels that takes more trouble to 
handle than a dozen oars over a two mile carry. Them 
devilish reels is, after all, the wust things I knows on. 
They're al'ys a gittin' ketched some way in yer coat, jest 
when ye hook a big trout ; or they go spiunin' out, jest 



160 

when ye don't want 'em to, and ef ye hev a stop in 'em, 
the 'tarnal stop stops at the p'int where it shouldn't stop. 
But, howsever, this is the thing. About them shiny rods. 
Now, b'ys, I kin git a rod ennywheres in the woods, with 
a good plain hook, that '11 do all I want a rod to do, and I've 
fished more'n forty year in these ere wild waters ; and as for 
flies, I'll take a worm, or mebby a bit o' minnie, and I'll 
go right after one that's bin fishin' with a fly and ketch jest 
twice as many as he did in the same spot. I don't keer how 
much he skitters here and skitters there, and all that. A 
worm's a worm in these ere waters. And then the rifles 
the gen'nlemen bring. Why, my darter Polly kin see to 
fix her hair in the stocks, and they're all finified off with 
silver. Now there's my old rifle Spitfire, that I've killed a 
hunderd deer with in about three weeks at Tupper's Lake 
in one season alone ; I wouldn't give that rifle fur any one 
o' them kitteningoes they brings ; and that, b'ys, is the 
whull matter !" 

At noon it cleared. It was decided upon, however, as 
the camp spot was so pleasant, to stay where we were until 
the next morning. 

" And as that's the case," said Bingham, " and we shall 
have a clear, pleasant night, I intend to start on a jack- 
hunt as far as the Rapids as soon as it's dark. Harvey, 
will you be paddler ? Cort don't feel very well." 

" Sarten !" answered the old boatman. 

" Well, have your boat ready, and if there's a deer as 
far as we go on the river, I intend to make its acquaint- 
ance !" 

But about sunset it thickened up once more, and shortly 
the rain threads began glimmering. 

" Another rainy night on't," said Harvey sauntering up. 

" Well," said Bingham, " truly may we say, in all sin- 
cerity, in these woods, ' The Lord reigneth.' But rain or 
no rain, I mean to float for deer to-night up the Racket. 
Be all ready, Harvey, so we can start at dark. The rain 
after all may stop soon." 



OK, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 161 

The rain still fell. And it looked as thougti it wouldn't 
stop in a hurry. 

Night came. 

"Come, hurrah there I" said Bingham, slipping on his 
rough overcoat and clapping his rifle within it.* " All 
ready, Harvey ?" 

" All ready, Mr. Bingham ! Come, Mr. Smith !" 

"What, is Smith going too? Well, hurrah, hurrah! 
the deuce take the rain I Come, Harvey, light your jack 
and push off! ought to be nearly to the Rapids by this 
time ! Come, hurrah, hurrah," and off we pushed upon 
the rainy river. 

The most intense darkness wrapt the scene, with ja. silence 
broken only by the humming on the leaves and sprinklings 
on the water. 

Up we went, the Bluebird glancing her eye into the 
banks, but we saw nothing, heard nothing that told of deer. 
From a gloomy clearing on the left bank, came the asthma- 
tic whine of an owl, and now and then the hoarse gulp of 
a frog. At last we reached the foot of the Rapids, with 
the shingle-weaver's camp just above. A single light like 
a star told where the woodman was weaving his shingles 
by his pine-knot torch. All else was solitude. Here Bing- 
ham and I landed, while Harvey pushed up through the 
Rapids to visit the camp. We kindled a bonfire with some 
old shavings on the bank, upon a broad rock at the foot of 
the Rapids. The glare flashed the black scenery into crim- 
son life. Soon a shout sounded from the head of the 
Rapids, and amid the wild flaming light and a shower of 
red sparks, I saw Harvey descending in his boat and kneel- 
ing in Indian fashion. Darting hither and yon like a 
frighted bird ; seeming at one time to be dashing on a rock, 
then swinging round in some eddy, the little Bluebird at 
length emerged from her perils, ready for her return flight 
to camp. Down the river again she sped, but as before 
we saw nothing. Once only there was a light, cautious, 
paddling tread in the water, but the gloom disclosed no 



162 

living shape ; black logs and blacker rocks alone met our 
view. 

A little before midnigbt we returned to the camp. The 
rain was still falling, freshening into ruddier light the camp- 
fire, which sent up among the leaves long lines of golden 
lace work. Seated upon their stools around the tent, front- 
ing the genial blaze, were my comrades, pretending to be 
lost in admiration of the glittering curls that were winding 
through the foliage, but really lost in the effects of a huge 
pitcher of punch. 

Soon the rain ceased, and by the time we went to bed 
the stars were shining. 



OR. THE S ARAN ACS AND RACKET. 163 



CHAPTER XIY. ^ 

Simon's Pond.— Harvey's Story of Old Sabele, the Indian.— Driving Deer.— 
The Simon's Pond Pirate. — Tapper's Lake. — Night Sail on Lake. 

Morning arose calm, and mantled in light cloud. The 
sun -glow interfusmg the delicate mist kindled it into a 
veil of pearl streaming over the brow of the day. 

We had fallen so in love with our camp, and the softness 
of the weather was so luxurious, that we deferred our depar- 
ture from honr to hour. 

My comrades went to their eucre again, and I took a 
seat on a log near where the guides were " lying around 
loose." 

" That chap that goes about peddlin' so much from 
t'other side o' Keene Mountain," said one, rolling from his 
breast to his back, and slouching his hat over his eyes, 
"let's me see, his name is — no matter, he's cross-eyed 
and chaws t'baccy some I tell ye ! well, he was a tellin' 
round t'other day at Harrietstown, that he could kill more 
deer, ketch more trout, and row a boat better than enny 
guide about Baker's. 

" ' Why,' said I, * you don't know as much as a yaller 
dog about enny o' them things you're a braggin' about.' 
He was a goin' to get mad, but he kinder thought better 
on't." 

" Fools is fools," said Harvey, " and you can't make 
nothin' else on 'm. But I say, b'ys, let's hev a shootin' 
match !" 

As he spoke, a ground squirrel darted upon a mossy log 
near, and lifting his brush, looked saucily at the guides. 
Will seized his rifle, and as the little striped clown of the 



164 

underbrush turned, he fired, and the animal fell, minus ^ 
a head. Tiny, chirpy titmouse next came hopping along, , 
bending his brown turban to one side and the other; but: 
as he paused under a buff hopple-sprout to peck at his! 
raised foot, away went his turban, picked off by a bullet t 
from Cort. Then Harvey glanced at a yellow bull's-eye: 
of a knot bulging high on a pine-tree. Up went his piece : 
to his left shoulder, and as the short, flat report rang in my ' 
ears, I saw a black spot in the middle of the bulge like a i 
robin's eye. 

" Wa-a-1 !" said the remaining guide, " I don't see no 
more chipmunks, or chickadees, or knots, and not even a i 
respectable-sized devil's darnin'-needle on the stream toi 
shoot at ; but there's suthin' up there," pointing to a pre- 
maturely crimsoned leaf of the mercury plant, which 
wreathed a maple-stem, looking like a red dot on the soft ; 
grey of the sky, '' that I rayther guess I'll drill a hole 
through." 

So saying, he aimed, and the leaf vanished. 

After dinner, we decided to start for Tupper's Lake (six 
or eight miles distant, and connected with the Kacket), 
and there erect our camp for a week. A spot on the east 
shore, nearly opposite two islands called the Two Brothers, 
and about a mile from where we entered the lake, as 
explained to me by Eenning, was the spot selected. 

Everything being in readiness, we started, Corey and 
little Jess taking the lead in the store-boats. They were 
to precede us to the lake, to place the camp in readiness for 
our arrival, we having settled on a drive at Simon's Pond 
on our way thither. 

Harvey and I took the lead of the party. 

The river was smooth, and the colors upon it were all 
soft and velvety. 

"Stetson's!" said Harvey, as we passed where a brook 
came in at the north bank, with a boat or two drawn up 
on the muddy margin. " There's his house and clearin' I 
There's quite a little settlement about here ! half a dozen 



OK, THE SAEANACS AND RACKET. lt)0 

am'lies, sarten ! My son Sim's 'mongst 'em. 'Tisn't 
lore 'n a mile right crost the woods to Eacket Pond, 
lelow Tapper's Lake, and the Pond's eight miles from 
ere. So you see what an onmassyful twistin' river the 
Jacket is." 

As we doubled a point we came upon a shanty, crouch- 
Qg, with its two gleams of windows, under a leaning fir, 
ke a frog under a tilted lily-pad. A hunter sat upon a 
)g, cleaning his rifle. 

" Goin' to Tapper's Lake, I 'spose ?" shouted he. 

"ISTothin' shorter," shouted Harvey, in return; "but I 
\j\ had enny sport at Simon's Slew, or on the pond, 
itely?" 

" Killed two in the pond, jack-huntin', unly last night — 

buck and a doe. They're mighty thick up there, 
[icked the lily -pads clean up on eend." 

" All right !" said Harvey ; and we passed on. 

We turned shortly into a little stream to the south, that 
Dread, after a few rods, into a broad expanse. 

" Simon's Pond !" ejaculated Harvey, and steered out 
pon its surface. All around us was a pavement of lily- 
ads, which bore fresh tokens of deer in the piled and 
pturned leaves. 

We had taken the short cut into the pond, and had to 
wait the other boats through the usual channel. After a 
'^hile they appeared ; and Watch and Sport were taken 
y Harvey into the woods for the drive. He soon returned, 
iking his seat at the prow, with the encouraging remark, 
lat it wouldn't be long, he guessed, " afore we'd hear 
msic." 

The other boats dwindled off to their stations. 

We were in a beautiful little nook ; the Bluebird pinned 
) a log by Harvey's oar planted close to her side in the 
oze of the shallow. A streak of white lilies, with spots of 
ttle, furzy pink blossoms, was just outside. 

The snipe alighted and hopped, bowing in his grey coat 
nd white waistcoat, along the wet stones, and the green 



166 WOODS AND WATEKS; 

bullfrog jumped with a croak on the black log, and lifting 
his yellow, speckled throat, stared at us with his great eye- 
jewels, as if he were carved from stone. 

" I never telled ye about old Sabele, I bleeve !" said 
Harvey, after a while, but in a cautious tone. " He was 
an old Injin. I knowed 'im well. When I fust knowed 'im 
he was shantyin' where old Leo is campin' now, down on 
the Eacket, jest above Kacket Pond. He was as good a 
shot at a deer, and could ketch as big a lot o' trout as the 
next man, and he wa'n't no man's fool at trappin' ; he was 
an orful old critter, though, when he got mad ; but" — 
bending his ear suddenly, " I bleeve I heerd one o' the 
pups then — was as smart, actyve a man for his years as 
I've most ever seen, and as a gin'ral thing was purty good- 
natered. But when he got rum aboard, look out ! Why, 
he'd dance and kick about, and keep his tommyhawk 
a-goin' and sssss-sing, he would, like a dozen bagpipes. 
* Hah, hah slammerawhang, hooh !' he'd go, ' hah, hah, 
wah — hay' (cocking his ear, with eyes and mouth wide 
open), that must ha' bin one o' the dogs — Watch, I think. 
Well, he used to tell me some o' the terr'blest long yarns 
about what he did when he was a young man in Canady, 
in the last war. He fit fur us, he said, and he must ha* 
bin round some, 'cordin' to his tell. * Sabele,' he used to 
say, * put on de war-paint — all red on one side de face, and 
black on toder — den he dance de war dance^ and hit de 
war post all down to noting^ and den he took de war trail ;' 
that is, he went out for a gin'ral spree agin the British, 
a tomahawkin' and a sculpin — there's a blue jee agin' ! what 
a squawkin' sarpent 'tis ! — the wust way. 

" He was livin' with his tribe on the 'Tawy River, and 
fell in love with a white gal — what a tattin' that plaguy 
woodpecker keeps up ! I could hear the pups, though, for 
all that sharp rattlin'. There ain't no sound in natur' that 
joggles enny other sound to me. But as I was say in' 
about old Sabele. This white gal was the darter of an old 
trapper that lived nigh the tribe. Now, as Old Sanko would 



167 

bev it, there was two things agin Sabele and the gal ; one 
pvas, it was agin the law o' the tribe fur to marry enny 
except Injins ; and the other was, the old chief of the tribe 
fvranted Sabele to marry his own darter ; and as he was a 
aright, smart, actyve chap, and a great warryor (as the 
[njins calls their fightin' charackters), the old chief— let's 
see, what was his name ? — ^well, I forgit it ; but no matter, 
le forbid the match. But that didn't make not a mite o' 
liff'rence with their feelins — that is, Sabele and the gal — 
hey hed sich an orful sight o' love aboard. So the old 
ihief, as ye may s'pose, didn't like it. 

" But afore he did anything, he hed a talk with Sabele. 
31d Sabele has telled me this ere talk more'n twenty times ; 
vhen he got very drunk he used to tell it, I tell yer, with 
dl the hifilutens. 

" Well the old chief, s'ze, to Sabele, s'ze, * Wing o' the 
;loud,' s'ze, ' Eagle o' the sun !' the old — lem me see — was 
t oak ? I disremember, but 'twas some old tree or other — 
ihe old — whatever 'twas — cedar, or white pine, or — maple 
■ur what I know — is now — the idee was — a tott'rin' like — 
md '11 soon — the idee was — fall down — that is — the p'int 
m't was, that the old chief might soon die off, and then the 
Eagle — ef so be he behaved himself — would be head o' the 
;ribe. ' But,' s'ze, ' listen,' s'ze ! the ' Eagle,' s'ze, ' when he 
—kinder tries, you know, to fly right agin a blast o'wind 
— w-e-1-1 — a harricane like — that's the idee — he's — the idee 
svas — throwed back catwallopus right agin the rocks, where 
—as a body may say — he breaks all the bones in his body' 
—by goU ! there's the pups, and in airnest too !" spring- 
ing his locks. " The runway is by that little opening there, 
3luss to that leanin' white cedar. Look out now, and you'll 
see suthin' in a few minutes. Watch and Sport's both 
a singin' like a row o' schoolmams at camp meetin'." 

As he ceased, a distant guttural yet sweet and liquid 
ough, ough, ough, ouoo, ouoo, ouoo, uMul-ul, lul-ull-lull- 
loo touched my ear, rapidly swelling ; nearer and nearer ; 
then sinking, and floating away, then rising again ; the music 



168 WOODS AND 

of different tones blending, separating, blending once more, 
and now coming closer and closer. 

Harvey, with, his rifle raised, and his whole appearance 
bristling with excitement, sat with his protruded eyes 
gleaming and fixed on the opening that was gauzed in a 
curl of sunny mist from the water. ; 

Nearer, nearer, nearer swelled the music of the hounds. 
At last in the woods just beyond the cedar, a brown shape 
glanced, and the next moment a buck, with his antlers on 
his shoulders and his sharp face lifted, shot across the open- 
ing, his dark stretched-out frame appearing like a phantom 
darting through golden smoke. With one bound he leaped 
into the water. Harvey fired ; the deer gave a convul- 
sive spring and then sank. 

" Deer sink this time o' year in the water jest like a stun 
ef they're shot dead," said Harvey, pulling up his oar 
and making the boat fly toward the spot where the deer 
had disappeared; "but this can't sink fur in this shall er. 
There 'tis," pushing aside the lily-pads. 

The deer was lying on the bottom, not more than two 
feet from the surface. 

"A three year old buck at least," added Harvey, strik- 
ing the prongs of a boat-hook he always carried into the 
animal's neck, lifting his head above the water and drag- 
ging him into the boat. 

" The dogs has turned," as a faint burst of cries came 
from another direction ; " they must 'ave rousted up two 
deer. You shot the buck you know, Mr. Smith! This 
is a mason boat ! You'll be rael old hunderd with 'm after 
this. They kinder think you can't shoot no deer no way ; 
but this '11 make 'm feel thank ye mam all over torts yer ! 
Ho, ho, ho ! won't they look jealous — but by goll there's 
another deer in the pond — there — don't ye see a speck like 
a loon's head? Mr. Eunnin's boat's closin' on't too. 
Mart's a goin' to tail it. Yes, by hokey he has, and Mr. 
Eunnin's shootin' ! We've got another deer," as the crack 
of a rifle echoed over the pond. 



169 

•' So you've a deer too," said Eenning as we approached ; 
^' pretty well for an hour's work. Gaylor has taken up the 
dogs, and what say you all now to having a look at the 
pond!" 

" Jess so !" answered Harvey, " that is ef so be Mr. 
Smith's agreeable, as I b'leeve he is, that is, I kinder con- 
sated you'd all hev a notion to take a cruise, and so" — 
" Well, hurrah then !" said Eenning, leading the way. 
'' There may be as nice men about," said Harvey, hitch- 
ing his hat over his eyes, " as Mr. Eunnin', but, as I've 
said afore, there aint no nicer. But don't you think, Mr. 
Smith, he's sometimes got a kind o' way of cuttin' crost 
folks when they're talkin' ? Now I don't never stick my 
tongue in when I ought'n ter, and as you knows I haint no 
great shakes of a talker enny way ; I al'ys 'ud a great sight 
ruther hear other folks talk than talk myself; but some- 
times when I do say suthin' I somehow kinder like to say 
it through. But it's all right, so (croaking) 

" ' He went to the wars, alas, long years ago-o-o-o, 
And I live but to see him unst more at Glencoe I' " 

and so on ! " 

The shores were high and covered with forest. The water 
was clear as air, and in the soft afternoon light had in it a 
golden gleam like champagne. We skimmed rapidly to 
the head, landing on a ledge of grey rock for a lunch. We 
then entered the inlet leading, as Harvey informed me, into 
a small pond back of Mount Morris. 

" There's the place for a jack-hunt," said he, as leaving 
the inlet we skirted a swampy meadow. " But I must tell 
ye of an old feller that lived on this pond some twenty 
years ago. I'll tell ye the rest about old Sabele tomorrer 
m T upper's Lake. 'Tisn't old Simon that the pond's named 
ifter that I mean, but an old man, a hermit like, as I heerd 
I gen'leman call't, that was as lonesome in his way o' livin* 
I'most as an old loon. He was a cur'ous old critter, and 
r think a leetle out of his head. He was about the wust 

8 



170 

lookin' man I ever see. He had a scar from his eyebrow 
clearn down his cheek, and when he was in liquor and mad, 
for when he was in one he was t'other, that scar 'ud turn 
the color of a red huntin' shirt, and his eye looked as farse 
as a painter's. Some folks said he'd been a pirate, and I 
raally b'leeve he hed, for he'd talk the queerest when he'd 
rum aboard I ever heerd a decent man talk. 

" * I've cut a man to pieces when I was down in Cuby 
fur a less thing 'n that,' said he one time when a chap gin 
him the lie in a shootin' match at Harrietstown, ' and dern 
me' (or suthin' wusser 'n that) 'ef I stand it now,' and with 
that he outs with his knife and makes a spring at him, 
and ye may bleeve there was a row there a leetle while. 
The old feller — his name was Kelsey — didn't use his knife 
though, fur a leetle chap by the name of — what was that 
feller's name agin ? Doodle ! no 1 well, he had a game leg, 
and we used to call him Hoppy. He was one o' them kind 
o' fellers that wasn't afeard, well, I might as well say it, of 
the divil ; he come up and took him right by the elbow — 
he was as spry as a cat that feller — and afore old Kelsey 
knowed it, he had the knife away. Oh, but wa'n't old 
Kelsey mad, old Moose Kelsey, as we used to call 'im ! He 
fairly roared, but twant no use, and finally at last he cooled 
down and took a drink. 

" He wa'n't much of a hunter or fisherman, but he was 
an all fired trapper. At one time he'd a longer saple line 
than enny other man in all the S'nac region. It reached 
from this pond clearn up inter the St. Regis, massy knows 
how fur. More'n fifty mile though. I shantied with 'im 
a week, one fall, on Tupper's Lake ketchin' fur. We got 
all the rats we wanted, besides fisher and mink and saple ; 
and we killed a good lot o' ven'son too. But I wouldn't a 
stayed with him a week longer fur all the fur and ven'son 
on the lake. Why he'd start out of a sound sleep right 
onto his feet with one jump, and y-e-U; and his eyes 'ud 
glare, and sometimes he'd stagger and tottle back as ef he 
wanted to hide himself, and tremble he would jest like a 






OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 171 

fa'n when he's ketch ed, and he'd scream out, in a kind o' 
jerk, ' Go 'way, go 'way !' and at other times he'd jump 
forred and ketch the air and hev a fight all to himself with 
his knife. Sometimes he wouldn't sleep 'tall, but walk up 
and down, np and down, all night. I got beat out at the 
end o' the week and put fur hum." 

" What became of him, Harvey?" 

" Well he died. He was found by a couple o' hunters 
dead under a tree nigh a wolf-trap o' his'n on the edge of 
the little pond, up there under Mount Morris. I never 
could fairly make out about 'im. After he died his shanty 
was sarched, and a cutlash and an old sailor's jacket, with 
an anchor on the sleeve, was found in a cubby hole, and 
an old scrap of a newspaper, printed I bleeve in New 
Orleans, that had a long account of a nest o' pirates that 
hed bin broken up in one o' the islands round Cuby. 
Some on 'm had bin hung and some put in a dungeon fur 
trial, and some o' these had broke out and run away. One 
in partic'lar was spoke of as bein' the farsest and bloodiest 
and most desprit of all, and a big reward was offered fur 
'im. His parson was all in print, the cut of his face and 
height and all, and I tell ye, the newspaper and old Kel- 
sey's looks 'greed like two mushrats. But here we are at 
the Racket agin, and now hooray for Tupper's Lake !" 

Dolighted at the prospect of so soon beholding a lake of 
whose beauty I had heard so much, I leaned back, after our 
turn to the left into the river again, and watched the gliding 
banks, anticipating the moment when we should open out 
into the lovely waters, and expecting it at every bend. 

" I spoke o' Simon's Slew as bein' the spot where Old Eam- 
rod hid away from the Injins," said Harvey. " We passed 
it a leetle while ago. It's on the opp'site side to Simon's 
Pond, and the all firedest place fur lily-pads I 'most ever 
see. You may bleeve there's jack-huntin' there. And 
talkin' o' huntin', I shot a mighty big buck jest by that 
jam o' floodwood in the river up there. He was 'most as 
big as the one I shot at Buckslew. 



172 WOODS AND WATERS; 

We had now readied a bend to tlie rignt. A low island 
covered with vegetation lay before, dividing the river into 
two narrow channels, while to the left, or south, stretched 
a path of water. Into this we turned. A few minutes 
passed, when suddenly a broad sheet of water expanded at 
our prow. 

" Tupper's Lake !" said Harvey. 

The view was surpassingly beautiful. 

A green and gold sunset was burning in the west and 
gleaming on the water. 

On each side the lake curved gracefully away ; at the 
left in an unbroken line, and at the right blending to all 
appearance with a network of islands. In front were two 
other islands rounded as if by an architect, identical 
in shape and forming the gateway, as it were, to the 
inner view of points and headlands, crescent bays, island 
edges and liquid vistas that extended downward until 
closed by a mass of forest. Within this gateway glowed 
a golden film of light, while a depth of shadow purpled 
the water before it. 

Over this splendid water picture we lay our course, lead- 
ing the way diagonally to the left. As we skimmed 
along I heard again the bravura of the loon. The distant 
quaver came over the water from the direction of the 
grouped islands at the right, and I felt that something in 
keeping with the wild region was restored. Except the 
instance at Folingsby's Pond we had not heard the sound 
since we left the Saranac Lakes, broad expanses of water 
alone constituting the loon's haunt. 

I turned to detect the speck of its head on the surface, 
but my eye only fell on the boats of the party skimming 
in our wake over the superb enamel of the water. 

At length we touched the shore at a little cove, some- 
what to the right of the south gateway-island, and running 
the bow up the sandy margin we awaited the coming of the 
other boats. 

Corey had pitched our tent in a little opening at the edge 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 173 

of the water, at the foot of the bank. The tent of the 
guides was beside it. 

Here was to be the camp for our week upon the lake, 
and a pleasant spot it was. 

In due time our traps were transferred from the boats 
(hauled in a row half way up the sand) to the tent ; our 
rustic table was again erected under a cedar, and our even- 
ing meal of customary trout and venison prepared. 

It was witli a home feeling, after our roamings along the 
Eacket, that we drew around the rude board in the sunset 
to discuss our wild delicacies. 

Suddenly an unearthly scream rang through the forest. 
It came from directly over our heads ; fierce, threatening, 
making our ears tingle. 

" What the deuce is that ?" said Bingham, his cheek bulg- 
ing with a huge bite of trout, as he stared upward. 

The guides laughed. 

Another scream, more diabolical if possible than the first, 
echoed from the lower branch of the cedar, and I saw what 
I had taken to be a large knot take wing, and with a glide 
like thistledown perch on a stump near the table. Two 
round eyes like small moons gleamed in the light of our 
camp-fire, and we then saw it was an owl. 

" Well, this is the strangest country I ever knew," said 
Bingham. " If you go on the water in the day you hear 
a yell like an Indian's in a war dance, and you are told it is 
a loon. You cruise through some tangled-up lily -pad hole 
that goes by the name of slew, in the night, and suddenly 
there '11 burst out a sound like a strangled tornado, making 
you jump out of your skin almost, and the guide will say, 
* How that deer whistles !' when it is as much like a whistle 
as a north-wester is like a piccolo flute. And now a com- 
pany of Christians cannot enjoy a meal in their own camp, 
which I take to be their own castle " (here Bingham was 
evidently carrying the case to the jury) " without owls 
coming and screaming in the most disgraceful manner; 
just like a — a — a — a — in fact, as I may say, just like the 



174 WOODS AXI) WATERS ; 

devil. And, by the way, these owls have each more sounds 
in their throat than a military band with a company of cats 
and the north wind. They hiss and they whizz, they bark 
and they yell, they whine and they hoot, and they mew 
and they snarl ; in fact, Mr. Harvey Moody, head guide of 
the Saranacs, can you tell me what sounds they don't 
make ?" 

During the excited Bingham's harangue, the owl had 
alighted nearer to the table, and now began to eye the pro- 
visions on it, as if wondering why, in the name of all that 
was polite, he was not invited to partake. So pert was his 
look, and so impudent his actions, that we all, Bing- 
ham (after his spasm of eloquence) included, burst into a 
laugh. 

This pursuit of a supper under difficulties continued 
until Watch, thinking, probably, that the matter was 
" about played out," uncoiled himself from a hemlock 
root, and with his ear-flaps erected into a stately frown, and 
his tail ringed into severe determination, stalked, as if to 
stop this foolery at all hazards, towards his owlship, who, 
waiting till the hound was within a few feet of him, gave a 
spitting bark, ending in a caw of vast contempt, and glided 
spectre-like away. 

The dark water now stretched before, with the black 
shapes of the islands massed within the gloom. Lines of 
faint light lay upon the surface from the few rays that 
lingered at the zenith, seeming to beckon me on ; and the 
scene looked so dimly mysterious, I felt impelled to explore 
its shadowy recesses. 

Calling Harvey, we pushed off, he taking the paddle. 
He drew it with a meek, regular sound, scarcely disturbing 
the divine quiet in which the scene was lapped. The 
water gurgled sweetly at the prow, and the air opened by 
our motion was balmy, and filled with the peculiar fragrance 
of the forest. 

We ran up the shore, the woods assuming strange, fanci- 
ful shapes as we passed. Now a procession of kings 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 175 

streamed along with crowns of gold, and spangled with 
golden jewels. Now a fairy city of dark marble met my 
view, with sparkling casements. A dead pine on a bank 
before a ledge, and with a long, star-tipped arm, was Pallas 
before the Parthenon, with her spear-point gleaming in the 
everlasting lamp. Those withered trunks were Baalbeck 
in starlight; and the black object above on the boulder, 
with a speck of pallid light, some would have said it was 
a log, with a bit of phosphorescence, but it seemed to 
me a panther, with his gleaming eye on a slumbering 
hunter. 

We left the shores and steered into the lake, and between 
the two islands in its centre. All was shadowy ; dark 
trees mingled with dark rocks ; alleys of black water 
studded with stars — all in the highest degree exciting to 
the fancy. 

From the islands we glided into the broad space of 
jewelled black directly opposite the camp. 

Breathing an air redolent of the balsamic odors of the 
pine and rich pungency of the cedar, I leaned back and 
gazed into the sweeping constellated heavens. I strove to 
pierce into the spangled depths, and to realize the gran- 
deur of the upper spaces, whose infinitude crushes power- 
less the wings of the most soaring imagination. 

Nothing gives a deeper feeling of solitude than float- 
ing over one of these wild lakes at night. The profound 
quiet, broken only by the loon's cry and some nightbird's 
plaint, which rather deepen than disturb it, and the darkness 
mystifying the surrounding woods, are full of mysterious 
promptings. 

This feeling is also purifying. The colors are not those 
with which the day appeals to the sensuous within us ; the 
sombre tone prevalent touches our deepest and holiest emo- 
tions. We lament past deficiencies and sins ; we form wise 
and good plans and resolutions ; we long to initiate a bet- 
ter and loftier future. Our highest affections are awakened; 
home and its loved ones ; our friends, those on whom 



•'■'" WOODS AND WATERS; 

we are dependent, and who depend on us, crowd around. 
How the gloom is peopled! how the night overflows 
with dear forms and faces ! The soul speaks, cleansed for 
the time from its impurities, as malaria is swept by the 
breath of autumn. •' 



177 



CHAPTER XV. 



Tupper's Lake. — Old Sabele continued. — The Devil's Pulpit. — Its Legend. — 
A Deer's Leap. — The Camp. — Trout Fishing. 



The frescoes of the dawn had not yet melted when I left 
the tent ; but soon the tip of a white pine on the nearest 
island broke into rosy fire, and the dead grey brightened 
into a golden landscape of wood and water. 

There was no stir yet in the tent. At length a red 
squirrel, twirling his brush like a housewife her dish- 
cloth, cantered to the rear, where a corner had been left 
exposed, and threw within a chatter, as if in scorn at slug- 
gards, and then scampered up a beech hard by. Out 
darted Bingham, rifle in hand, and sent a bullet after his 
squirrelship, visible in a high fork; but as only a twig 
fell instead of a squirrel, Bingham, catching my eye, turned 
around, red in the face, and picked a quarrel with Pup, on 
pretence that he had nipped his leg as he shot. 

After an early breakfast we all separated ; Gaylor and 
Kenning to try the trout below Perciefield Falls which were 
about ten miles down the Racket ; Bingham and Coburn to 
fish the buoys sparkling between the islands, and to explore 
the lake, and I to visit, with Harvey, the mouth of Redside 
Brook, a mile up, also for trout. 

Tupper's Lake is about eight miles long, with an average 
width of two. Of its Indian names, Pas-kun-ga-meh signi- 
fies '' a lake going out from the river," and Tsit-kan-i-a-ta- 
res-ko-wa, " the biggest lake." The former has reference to 
its connection with the Racket. 

It forms an angle, and Mount Morris, or Tupper's Lake 
8* 



178 WOODS AND WATERS; 

Mountain, extends along its south and east sides at a dis- 
tance from the water of three or four miles. 

The lake lies north-east and south, is south-west of the 
Eacket, and connected with it bj two channels. The 
southern channel is the one by which we entered. 

The northern, or ''the outlet," leads to the ''Indian 
Park," a tongue of land formed by a semicircular bend of 
the Eacket on the one hand, and a little bay of the lake 
on the other. It flows for some distance between a rocky 
bluff of the Park to the north, and an island which divides 
it from the southern channel. 

The north ^nd west shores of the lake are hilly, Gull Pond 
Mountain extending along a portion of the course. 

We coasted up the camp side of the lake to Eedside 
Brook, and Harvey fastened the boat by its chain to a log. 

There was a golden flutter of light on a ripple ; the gleam 
of a white birch kindled the purple gloss of a pool ; there 
was the emerald flash of the dragon-fly, and around the 
brown water-spider skated. 

" Well," began Harvey, after we had settled to our fish- 
ing, " as I was tellin' on ye about old Sabele. When the 
old chief heerd o' the love scrape^ — I had a bite then — but I 
guess 'twas only a minnie — he had, as I was a sayin', quite 
a jaw with Sabele, a smoothin' on 'im down at fust by callin' 
'im an Eagle and so on, which I don't think, fur myself, 
was enny great shakes of a name. I don't think half as 
much of an eagle as I do of a' fish-hawk — one's honest and 
t'other aint ! I can't give ye all the speech, but the long 
and short of it was it didn't do no good, and so the old 
chief was detarmined on suthin' else. So — aha, how de do, 
sir!" (jerking up a large trout, breaking its neck on the 
boat's edge, and casting it to the bottom), "so one day 
Sabele went — these deer-flies bite most as bad as mitchets 
this mornin' — he went to see his gal, and found the old 
trapper dyin' — hold 'im well up, Mr. Smith ! taut line — not 
too taut, though, or he'll break away — jest so that he'll feel 
the bit. Give 'im line now I that's a two pounder, Mr. 



OK, THE SAKANACS AND EACKET. 179 

Smith, I'll bet a saple skin agin a mushrat's — now reel 
in, and I'll ketch 'im by the gills — there !" breaking his 
neck also and throwing him below. " But, as I was a sayin', 
there was the old trapper dyin', and the gal dead, and the 
trapper telled Sabele that the old chief and another fightin' 
charackter of the tribe 'ad come to the shanty and 'ad tom- 
myhawked and sculped 'm both. Wasn't Sabele mad? 
Wasn't he ? I tell yer he could a chawed up a wolf-trap, 
'cordin' to his tell ! His heart was a bustin' too — massy 
alive, I b'leeve I've got the great grand'ther of all the 
trout in this ere part o' the country on my hook ! sizz- 
whizz — don't ye wish yer could git off? — but yer can't, 
yer know. I'll tell ye the rest o' the story in a minute, 
Mr. Smith ! There now, you hed to give up, didn't yer — 
though you aint so big as I thought you was" drawing in, 
then lifting an immense trout with a back like a leopard- 
skin by the gills, and joining him, with a broken neck, to 
the others. '' Well, back Sabele went, lickety split, to the 
tribe, and was a goin' to let it right inter the old chief with 
his knife, but the rest on 'm wouldn't let 'im. 

" Well, when Sabele found he couldn't let inter the old 
chief, he says to 'im, s'ze he, — I can't give it to yer as the 
old feller used ter, 'tickelly when he got drunk (which was, 
'twixt you and me, nigh about all the time), for he'd go 
high up, I tell yer, and slash about, and make mouths, and 
strut he would, like a crow in a gutter — but the idee was, 
'you' — that is, ef you, as abody may say, was dreffle mad, 
and wanted to tell a man he was a — I dunno as I know 
'zack'ly how to say it — but ef you thought he was a great 
villyan, and scoundrel, and rascal, and mean feller, you'd 
say so, wouldn't ye ? and mebby not say it scripter fashion 
nuther ! — well this was the idee on't. Sabele said to the old 
chief, 'You con-demned old villyan! I've found yer out! 
You've killed the gal !' — Them wa'n't the words, Mr. 
Smith ! but that was the idee, the p'int on't. 

" ' S'posen I did 1' said the old sarpent, ' that's my busi- 



180 WOODS AND WATERS; 

" ' Well, it's my business too !' says old Sabele — ^he was 
young Sabele then though — 'tisn't the rael words, Mr. 
Smith, as I said afore, but the idee — ' and I'm a goin' to 
let daylight through your dod darned old pictur-frame !' 
With that he rips out his knife agin, but they held him 
back tight by his coat-tails — no — not coat-tails, fur Injins 
don't wear none a bit more'n a frog, but they held 'im back, 
enny way. ' So,' s'ze, that is Sabele, s'ze, ' you want me to 
marry your darter ! now, go to the' — that is, Sabele, s'ze — the 
idee was — go to t'other place with your darter, and I'll go 
to Texas — that is, there war n't no Texas — that is, Sabele 
didn't know nothin' about Texas, but that was the idee — 
and with that he turns on his heels and off he goes. At 
fust he felt so bad he thought he'd kill himself, but bless 
ye, Mr. Smith, this ere love business aint no killin' matter, 
after all, and life's kinder sweet — goll ! ef there aint a rael 
old settler !" peering over the log. 

Poised in the mottled depths above a sunken limb 
which was wriggling in the refraction of the restless water, 
was an immense trout undulating, fanning himself with 
his fins and "laying oif" generally. 

Harvey let his hook down cautiously by the fish, which 
gave a look at it, and then moved away from it like a mas- 
tifi* from a puppy. 

" Be off with yourself I" said Harvey, casting his line 
in another direction — " but as I was sayin' about Sabele — 
he'd heerd tell o' this wilderness region, and so he come 
down here to get a livin', and the fust I knowed of him he 
was a shantyin' on Long Island in the lake here. He 
used to trap and hunt and fish there, and then he went to 
the Injin Park at the outlet o' the lake, and then furder 
down to where I telled yer — where old Leo is now — we 
must go and see Leo when we git down there ! he'll sell ye 
a nice pair o' moc'sins, and cheap too. Well, finally at 
last he — that is Sabele — got to be old and ragged, and went 
back to Canady and found all the tribe gone west ; and 
come back, and was dreffle lonesome, and got the rheumatiz, 



OK, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 181 

and couldn't trap much, nur hunt nur fish fur that matter, 
and didn't git no money and couldn't git no rum caze he 
hadn't no fur, nur no ven'son, nur no trout, nur no nothin' 
to git rum with, and nobody 'ud give 'im any, and the 
older I grow the more I see that nobody don't give much 
to nobody enny way — and so when he found he couldn't git 
no rum he made up his mind he wouldn't live no longer, 
and got in his canoe and went singin' his death-song, as he 
called it. I s'pose you never heerd an Injin's death-song, 
Mr. Smith ? I heerd Sabele one time, when he wasn't as 
drunk as common ! oh, how he did d-r-o-n-e and draw-l-M 
it out, hoh-hoh-je-me-neddy-hoh-hoh-massy on us ! hoh- 
hoh, 'lasses candy, and then he gin the warwhoop. Well, 
as I was sayin', he went floatin' down the Eacket, and 
finally at last went whipperty fling over — there's a duck 
— a copperhead ! I'll fetch him !" throwing down his rod, 
and the bird fell with Harvey's bullet directly through the 
green polish of his head. " This is fur your dinner, Mr. 
Smith !" rowing with alternate dips to where the bird was 
floating, and depositing him in the boat. 

" But where was it he went over, Harvey ?" 

" Went over ? why, he went whicketty clash over — I'm 
bound to hev that patridge too under that cedar bush — all 
these leetle things count in," firing, and stepping on shore 
he returned with the partridge minus a head. 

" But, Harvey, I want to know where he went over?" 

" He went over Pussy ville Falls, and enny body that 
wants to go over them, may go and be darned , 'twont be 
me, this year at any rate ; but spos'n we don't fish enny 
more, Mr. Smith — there don't appear to be many more 
bites, and as the mornin' is so pleasant I'll row ye round to 
the Devil's Pulpit." 

" The Devil's Pulpit !" 

" Yes ! it's a high rock on Birch Island !" 

" But why is it called so ?" 

" Well, they say the devil once got all the deer and fisher 
and saple and mink and rats and eagles and loons and trout 



182 

and what not together to preach to 'm. He come from the 
top o' Mount Morris out there, and sailed up over the lake 
on two pine trees which he cut down with his claws. He 
telled 'm that in a short time the fishermen and hunters 
and trappers was a comin' and a goin' to hev a high old 
time with 'm all. And he laughed till all the sides 
o' the rock cracked. When he got through, he dug his 
heels inter the rock down'ards, ketched a two-jear-old 
buck, blew on't and cooked it, took a brook trout weighin' 
about four pounds, sarved it the same, and then eat 'm 
both with about a dozen patridges, which he popped inter 
his mouth like dumplin's right afore 'm all. He then took 
and slung a couple o' the fattest deer over his shoulders, 
stuck a lake trout they say three foot long twixt his teeth, 
and baggin' about twenty black ducks, and kickin' the 
pine trees all to flinders, he skulled along with his tail 
through the lake till he got to the mountain, where he 
turned eend over eend and lit on top head- foremost and 
went down through like a streak o' lightnin'." 

Harvey urged the boat slowly along, while I gazed at 
the rock lifting its stern front from the lake four score feet 
in height. Its length of three hundred feet was curved 
like an enormous half-moon bastion. There was a little 
cove at its lower extremity darkened by dense cedars. 
Thence the mass heaved rounding onward, with large boul- 
ders at its base, their summits plumed with evergreens. 
Mossy seams furrowed its black and grey sides from top to 
base. In the clefts of its enormous ledges — cracked and 
splintered and scaled with lichen — tottering pines had 
clutched their claw-like roots, and in nooks and on plat- 
forms, bushes had clustered and spruces planted their dark 
spear heads. The rock was also broken into several 
steep profiles, and its head was a smooth, iron-like precipice, 
rounding downwards to the lake. All along its summit h 
dead pines stretched their jagged arms and reared their rj 
withered antlers. 

" There was a deer jumped right from the top o' that 



OK, THE SAEANACS AND BACKET. 183 

rock onst," said Harvey dipping a birch bark cup and 
drinking. 

" From the top of that rock, Harvey ?" 

" 'Twas a cur'ous thing, but 'twas so," replied Harvey. 
" 'Twas one afternoon in August, jest afore sundown, Will 
and me and Cort was campin' on the lake on one o' the 
Two Brothers. There was two or three b'ys in the lake 
agin this ere Pulpit which we'd bin baitin' fur some time, 
and they'd got to be fust best places far lake trout. Well, 
one day, about sundown, as I said afore. Will and Cort 
was there fishin' at the b'ys, one in one boat and one in 
another. Will was right under the Pulpit, and had jest 
ketched an all-fired big trout ; well, 'cordin' tb his tell, it must 
ha' bin a trout weighiji' nigh about five pounds, and had a 
kinder riz up to rest himself, and was a lookin' right at the 
top 'o the rock. All on a sudden, an almighty big buck, 
with horns like a rockin'-chair, bust up to the top, and 
sprung, and fell kersplosh inter the lake. He put to 't, 
and both Will and Cort was struck so all up in a heap, 
that they let the deer git away. I al'ys thought the way 
the deer come to jump was, that some bear or painter was 
a runnin' the buck, and he didn't mebby know the spot, 
and come so sudden on't, he couldn't stop, or mebby he 
jumped slap dash enny w^ay. There's one thing about it, 
a painter did take to the water a short time after that from 
Birch Island, and Will see 'im, and shot 'im. But talkin'o' 
bucks : there's Grindstone Bay out there to the left — a fust 
best place fur jack-huntin', and 'taint a very bad place fur 
trout where Grindstone Brook tumbles in." 

We then coasted down the north-east shores, dipped 
into a little bay with a baldric of silver sand, next into 
Gull Pond Bay (so called by Harvey), and threaded the 
group of islands I noticed on my entrance upon the lake ; 
the dark-green polish of the water-alleys and the inter- 
mingling shadows, full of sprinkled light. We then went 
into Mink Bay (which forms the lake side of the Park), 
and I began trolling, making the circuit of the spot of rock 



184 WOODS AND waters; 

in the midst, like a mud-turtle, but I caught nothing. We 
then pushed into the outlet, and I cast beneath the grey 
beetling bluff. The water was deep and weedless, and 
iinder Harvey's quiet rowing I soon secured a lake trout, 
of two pounds or more. 

Its thick frame, with its grey and yellow spots, con- 
trasted unfavorably with the more slender shape of red 
spangled brown and golden bronze shown by his gorgeous 
cousin of the brook. 

"We then turned and made for the camp, in the low after- 
noon light. Reaching it, we found all the party returned. 
A back shanty for a kitchen had been built.' A deep 
square pit had been dug as a cellar, wherein our stores 
were deposited, and covered by a flake or two of spruce 
bark. A rude table had been planted under a cedar, with 
lopped saplings on cross pieces for seats. Cross poles, on 
which to hang powder flasks, bullet-pouches, and the like, 
also stood at various points. 

In the centre stood the tents, with the usual camp fire in 
front. A path led up the ridge (as I discovered) to a spring. 

The beautiful spot was alive with culinary operations ; 
the old trees listening to the song of gridiron and saucepan 
instead of bird and ripple. 

I took a seat in a green root, twisted like an arm-chair, 
and looked around. My attention was caught by Pup. 
He dashed from a thicket to the fire, stopping so quick as 
to cant his hind legs up. There he gazed, with one ear 
pointed, as if for a stab, until a tiny rocket discharged by 
the flame wheeled him short round, with a yell like a loon. 
He then trotted sidewise to a bush, with a sniff at a stone, 
and a blow of his breath like a pshaw. At the bush he 
barked himself for a few moments off all his legs. He 
then stole toward the camp-kettle, hung by a sapling over 
the fire, and in whose twitching froth potatoes were bob- 
bing, stretching his neck so far as to uncurl his tail, till a 
glance from Corey shrank him into half his size, and he 
sneaked off limpsy. 



185 

Never did a hungry set enjoy a dinner more. The pure 
air of the woods, the exercise, and — I know not what, 
keeps you on a sort of famished look-out all the time. 
The very exercise of eating, too, seems to give you fresh 
appetite. And without meaning to turn informer on my 
comrades, or tell tales out of school, I must say that Bing- 
ham's stomach, in the woods, gave me a nearer idea of the 
bottomless pit than any other thing, human or divine, I 
have met in my travels. 

After our meal we all betook ourselves to pipes and com- 
fort. One lolled against an upright of the tent, another on a 
camp stool or in a dry brown hollow, or on a bank of moss ; 
while one lay flat on his back, with his boots planted 
against a tree, as if determined on pushing it out of his 
way. Our talk was light and lazy. The sunlight spread 
broad and dreamy upon the grass; here, sprinkled itself 
away among the leaves, there, struck aisles into the forest. 
The little birds touched upon the trees, and there was the 
occasional bark of a squirrel. Before us stretched the 
glittering white and sombre grey of the slumbering lake. 

One of our party at length seized an axe and laid vigor- 
ous but rather ineffectual blows on a pine, which the Anak 
seemed to scorn, for he did not show even a tremor. And 
no wonder, for if the axe fell twice in the same cut it was 
by accident, and as I turned to look at a beam of light like 
a ladder against a cedar, my friend was tugging with a 
face of scarlet and frown of fury at his axe, having by a 
desperate blow buried it in the sofl wood to the eye. 

The islands and headlands lay long eastward masses of 
shade upon the lake ; the sunset sky was one glitter of light, 
and the water broke into a glory of color. 

Nothing delighted me more during our sojourn at the 
lake than the daily variety of its looks. Not a fragment 
of cloud, not a flying hue, but found on its delicate texture 
an immediate image. Tints not detectable in the atmo- 
sphere kindled its surface. Thus, every moment almost, its 
: appearance changed. Now it smiled in tenderest azure, 



186 WOODS AND WATEES; 

then a little airbreath lighted upon it and a gleam of silver 
ripple cut athwart ; next some impalpable shade turned it 
into purple. Now it was grey glass, then a vagrant wind 
fanned up flitting darks all over. Again, a blue and golden 
calm; then the surface blackened, and intermittent foam 
broke out like the gleam of fireflies ; the tumult followed 
once more by softest quiet and divinest hues. 

As the light just after sunset is most propitious to the 
angler, the whole party now embarked for the mouth of 
Bedside Brook, a little distance above. This spot is the 
most famous for trout of all the cold spring brooks that 
enter the lake, and fine sport was anticipated. Nor were 
we disappointed. 

We moored to the logs and bushes, and shortly trout in 
numbers were gleaming and leaping on the bottoms of our 
boats. Toward the last, Renning tried a white night-fly, 
thinking he might strike a larger fish than with worm or 
minnow. He touched the water just where a log peered 
out from a lair of grasses. Whew ! wasn't that a bite ! 
Off the fish darts like a bullet ; down he dives as if the 
pricking in the throat could be doctored in that fashion ; 
up he comes again, finding little consolation down below ; 
then he launches out and spins around. He darts toward 
a log, but Renning turns him off; how skilfully he plays 
him ! how he gives him rope to hang himself more cer- 
tainly at last ! mark the countenance of the angler so grave, , 
and the whole demeanor so collected and self-reliant ! He 
reels in and reels out, keeping the fish "taut up to the? 
rein." But now the prey's motions are slower — he makes 
one more desperate lunge for the lily-pads, one more dart 
toward the pool under the hanging lid of the sedgy bank ; 
but he is wearied and drowning ; so Renning pulls hirai 
carefully toward him. There is a flap or two in the water,' 
and a faint outpull ; at length something glitters under thei 
surface near the boat. Mart seizes the landing-net ; dipa 
quickly, and in a trice a three pound trout is captured. 

After this Waterloo of our Napoleon, we rowed back inp 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 187 

the dusk toward the camp. Is a bear crouching in jon 
nook ? or is it a cedar bush on the edge of the water ? 
If I had not known that Bingham was ahead in his boat, I 
should certainly say this lank shape was his with rifle rest- 
ing against a rock for a shot. But no, it is merely a broken 
trunk with its crooked elbow leaning upon a ledge. If we 
were at Mud Lake, I should take that object for a moose 
looking at us with staring eyes. Too — hoo too — woo-o-o-o-o 
■ — psha ! it is an owl in a low, broad water-maple. 

" It is rather singular we don't encounter panthers," said 
Gay lor, after we had returned to camp. "I've been here 
four times, yet I've never seen one alive yet." 

" 'Tisn't oflfen they are seen," said Cort. " I've hunted 
and fished round -here all my life, yit I've never seen many 
on 'm. There's quite a passle, take it by and large, but 
they keep back in the woods and rocky places where peo- 
ple don't go. There's a good many more on 'm in Maine, 
'cordin' to the lumber fellers. Deer and trout is as plenty 
as here too, and moose a plaguy sight plentier ; fur I tell yer 
what 'tis, gen'lemen, it's one thing to talk about moose and 
t'other thing to git 'm. But they say out there on the — 
lets me see," putting his finger on his forehead, " there's a nob 
in't, or a nub — no, nob; what the plague is that name" — 

" Androscoggin," said Bingham. 

" No, no, there's a nob in't, I know." 

"Well, they call mountains knobs, sometimes," said 
Bingham ; " and all Maine is nothing but mountain. As 
a fellow once said in my hearing, you're scarcely halfway 
down one before you're gcJing up another." 

" Cort means Penobscot, probably," suggested Gay lor. 

" That's it," said Cort quickly, " the Nobscot ! well, they 
say there's, an all-fired grist on 'm, that is, moose, up there, 
and"— 

" Come, come, Cort!" broke in Bingham, "we know all 
about that. Suppose you moose up a little punch. I 
haven't' had any in two days ! I shall forget the taste of it." 
x^nd the obedient Cort immediately set about his brewing. 



188 WOODS AND waters; 



CHAPTER XVI. 



Bingham kills a Deer in the Lake. — The Indian Park. — ^Leo, the Indian.- 
The Loon. — Showers on the Lake. — In Camp. 



In the morning we all decided upon a drive. Watch 
and Sport were accordingly let loose, and we took our 
several stations on the lake for the expected deer — Harvey 
and I in the little Bluebird, as usual. We crossed the 
lake, and fastened to a bush in a small cove. 

The spot at first was lonely and quiet. At length sights 
and sounds began to steal out. The grey wheel of the 
gnats revolved up and down with its fine hum of motion ; 
the water-spider skipped along ; the sparkling waterbreak 
made its purl heard ; while a squadron of musquitoes, 
charging from a cover of rushes, filled the air with their fine 
sultry trumpets, and plied their lances, till I thought every 
pore held a needle. 

" Don't mind the flies, Mr. Smith," remarked Harvey, 
crushing a phalanx between his hands, " and they won't 
trouble ye half so much. I wouldn't glad the little var- 
mints so much as to notice 'm. Ef they will bite, let 'm 
bite and be derned. But I consated I heard Watch," 
bending his ear, " I didn't, though." 

I had for a little time been observing a spruce perfectly 
drenched in a broad fall of light. This illurgined spot 
shaped itself at length to a cathedral window. There it 
glowed with its lancet shafts, its mullions, its trefoil, all its 
bold and delicate traceries, and all a-blaze with jewelled I 
hues. Those hues streamed from off the shoulders of ' 
saints, and melted through the pinions of angels in vivid 1 



OR, THE S ARAN ACS AND RACKET. 189 

reds, greens, and yellows ; they stained the aisle below, 
and sprinkled the roof with gem-like rain. 

" About trollin'," Harvey drawled out at this moment, 
causing my window to vanish, " 'taint every feller kin troll 
that thinks he kin. Trollin' is trollin', and it ain't nothin' 
else. 'Taint fishin for brook-trout, nur deep fishin' at the 
b'ys, though every fool that comes out here thinks ef he 
can't do nothin' else he kin troll. Hark ! — no, it's nothin' ! 
About trollin', splice your two hooks back to back, and 
stick yer minnies from mouth to tail, so as tx) hev 
'em wobble in the water ; hev your oarsman row slow ; 
keep clear o' the weeds (weeds is the deuce and all in 
trollin') ; drop your line as keerful and quiet as a painter 
walks ; then draw in and out, in and out ; and ef ye 
don't ketch yer trout, there ain't no trout about there to 
ketch." 

A half hour glided away, I watching the glint of the 
light on the water, and looking at the forest, and Harvey 
whistling and humming to himself. 

Suddenly he sturt<?d. 

" There's the deer, by golly ! there in the water !" 
unchaining the boat and seizing the oars, while I snatched 
the paddle ; " it's strange we didn't hear the hounds!" 

At this moment a boat appeared, making swiftly for the 
deer. It contained Bingham and Cort, the former paddling 
with all his might, and the latter rising and falling to his 
rapid oars. 

" Now for a chase," said Harvey ; '' that buck's as good 
as gone, though, with our two boats after 'im." 

The scene was the open water opposite the camp. 

The buck made for the west Brother Island, straining 
every nerve, and driving swiftly through the water. 

Our boat was nearer the island than Bingham's, and we 
tried our utmost to head the deer off; for, once there. Birch 
[and Long Islands — the three divided only by alleys of water 
I — would lead him too far down the lake for us to hope 
[anything in his pursuit. 



190 WOODS AND WATEES; 

We succeeded, and the buck turned again to the open 
space. 

Bingham, by this time, had also approached, and I could 
see he was in a frenzy of excitement. 

" Pull away, Cort !" shouted he, "pull away I We must 
have that deer ! Jupiter, what horns I Don't let Smith 
get in before us I Pull as though you were drawing your 
legs through your mouth ! Hurrah I" 

The deer, wild with terror, was plying every sinew, 
leaping half way out of the lake in his desperation ; the 
water furrowing from his shoulders, his nose in the air, and 
his eyes almost bursting from his head with his exertions 
and fright. 

Both boats were now within a rod of the striving, pant- 
ing, snorting animal. 

" Hurrah, Cort !" yelled Bingham, dipping his paddle to 
the eye, " one or two more pulls, and then tail him ; and ' 
if I don't give that deer" 

The boat shot up as he spoke, and Cort, leaving his oars, , 
lunged to seize the brush of the deer. Quick as thought! 
the latter eluded him, turned, dived completely under the 
boat, and rose on the other side. This brought the deeri 
closer to us, and Harvey, throwing aside his oars, made a ; 
dash on his part to tail the animal. The frenzied creature^ 
once more dived, but was again forced to rise. 

" Cort, it's very strange you can't tail that deer," at last 
said Bingham. " He's either made of quicksilver, or both 
you and Harvey there are as lazy as Deacon Haskell's 
preaching, and you can take a drink between every word 
he says. Kow at him again !" 

The deer had again struck out, but Cort shot up, andi 
this time he grasped the brush, while the animal, snorting 
loudly, redoubled his frantic efforts at escape. 

Bingham aimed within a foot or two of the deer's graces 
ful head. I caught the wild gleam of the dilated eye; the 
report then rang, the head fell, and a tremor shook thej 
tawny frame. Cort's keen knife next flashed at the victim's 



191 

throat, and his strong arms lifted and deposited him in the 
boat. 

" That's the way I hurrah for our side !" exclaimed Bing- 
ham. " The best way, after all, to shoot a deer, is to tail 
him. If I could have had all the deer tailed, I've shot at 
in these slippery woods, I could start a victualler's shop in 
the settlements, eh, Smith!" and off* he and Cort pulled 
toward the camp, while Harvey and I steered toward the 
Indian Park. 

We entered the outlet; at our left rose the cliff, its 
ledges breaking out of the clinging foliage, and turning with 
its afternoon shadow the belt of water into ebony, and 
darkening the long low island between the two channels. 
Soon we reached the Park. It wore a sweet, pastoral look 
in the lowering light, the glowing atmosphere softening the 
lights into golden down, and the shades into transparent 
purple. 

A single log cabin, unoccupied and ruined, stood in the 
Park, with an old haystack at one corner, and a beautiful 
birch tree at the other. 

Beneath the slanting radiance, the weather-stained hues 
of the hut were turned into a rich tawny, the russet of 
the stack gleamed in golden brown, and the tree, together 
with a black cherry beside it, seemed burning in amber 
flame. 

Up the Racket Mount Morris met the eye, mingled 
and smoothed into one misty blue. In the middle distance 
the river, divided by its midchannel island, came flowing 
through two branches into the board basin which fronted 
and flanked the Park. 

"There's iron up there," said Harvey, nodding at the 
; wooded ridge that rose above the Park. "Folks don't 
know much about it, but I'm a blacksmith you know, and 
keep my eye out for sich things. If you'd like ter, I'll 
I show ye some blocks on't," and drawing the Bluebird's bow 
! on shore, the old woodman led the way across the pleasant 
j grassy plat, scattered with trees and thickets, and showing 



192 

traces of old cultivation, into the forest covering tlie swell of 
the ground. We had risen nearly to the summit, when 
Harvey picked from the rocky earth a fragment of black, 
sparkling ore, which I found to be a specimen of magnetic 
iron, rich and very heavy.* 

" There's plenty more all round here. See there, and 
there, and there," continued he, pointing about. "But let's 
go on, I want to show yer where this p'int begins." 

Crossing the summit and descending, we came to a small 
wild meadow, the neck of the peninsula, where the river 
came with one bold bend, toward the little bay belonging 
to the lake. 

" It looks jest as ef," said Harvey, " old Tupper had put 
out his little finger, and the Kacket was comin' to take it, 
and the woods had stepped up and dropt a green hand- 
kercher 'twixt, and gone on agin to drop another one at 
the eend." 

Eeturning to the boat, we found drawn up by it, a canoe 
or dug-out, smoothly hollowed from a birch log, with a 
beautifully shaped paddle athwart it. Immediately an 
Indian, with a rifle, and followed by two dogs, appeared 
from the woods nearest the lake. 

" Goll, ef here aint old Leo !" said Harvey. " Why, Leo, 
how de do !" 

" How do, how do !" answered the Indian, in a low, gut-| 
tural accent, smiling and holding out his hand. 

" Been a huntin' I" asked Harvey, shaking it 

" Yese, oh yese !" 

'' Kill enny thing?" 

" Nah, nah, oh hang, nah I" 

" See enny thing?" 

" Yese, yese, oh yese ! See a-a-a — yu-yaw-gwin — a-a — ^vatj 
you call eet?" 

"I dunno. How should I?" said Harvey. 

'' He goes so, bo-o-o-m-m-m," striking his sides with 
his elbows. 

* This specimen I subsequently found to contain ninety per cent, of iron. \ 



193 

" Bullfrog r' said Harvej. 

" TaunjtauD, nah, nah, oh hang, nah — he fly." 

" Flies and goes boom," said Harvey, thoughtfully. 
" Well, a crow goes boom, or quaw, which is the same 
thing. Was it a crow, a black thing that goes quaw, 
quaw?" 

" Nah, nah, oh hang! n-a-a-h !" said the Indian. " Dare, 
dare 1" as one of the dogs roused a bird at the edge of the 
woods. 

" Oh, a patridge! Well, what else did you see?" 

'' Quaah — he go so," jerking his head, " and says 
qu-a-a-h." 

" That^s a crow, I know." 

" Nah, nah, nah black thing ! Nah crow." 

" Well, what the old mischief is't then ?" 

" Go so — oh goo' mannee," rapping on his rifle-stock. 

" Woodpecker! why didn't you say so — what else?" 

" Dyaweh, oh so mooch !" placing his hands about a foot 
apart. 

" I should think a body 'ud die away all to pieces, to 
talk to this old wild goose of an Injin. I git everything 
so muxed up in my head tryin' to find out what he means, 
I can't remember nairy thing when I talk to him nor which 
from t'other. What the Old Sanko is dieaway?" tartly. 

" Down dare," said the Indian, pointing to the water. 

'' Well, what d'ye mean? Trout, muskrats, mink?" 

. " Yese, yese!" interrupted the Indian. 

" Oh, mink, hay! Where is yer fur? I should like to 
see it. But 'taint the right time o' year, Leo, to ketch fur, 
you must know that." 

" Nah, nah ! oh hang, n-a-a-h," and Leo threw aside a cedar 
branch in the stern of the canoe and showed a string of 
trout on a birch twig. 

" Oh, trout ! I don't think there's much die-away on them 
onless ye eat enough to kill a hoss ! " 

" Yese, yese ! trou, trou, so mannee !" holding up the 
string, which was really a fine one. 



194 

" Yery good, Leo ! a good nice buncti on 'em. Them's 
good dogs o' yourn too," looking at the gaunt, tawny, wiry, 
wild-looking animals. " Kael wolf-dogs, Mr. Smith ! swift 
as lightnin' and savage as a mad moose. That's a good 
rifle you've got to boot!" taking the weapon and examin- 
ing it criticall}^ 

I looked at the two as they stood together, both repre- 
sentatives of a class unknown to cultured life ; the old, 
bronzed hunter and trapper, and the wild red man, united 
by their habits and modes of life, and both so perfectly in 
keeping with the scenes where I saw them — the natural 
meadow — the primeval woods — the lonely lake — the log 
hut — the wolf-dogs — all so different from the objects to 
which I had been accustomed. I could hardly realize that 
I was scarce two-score leagues from populous and polished 
cities, and I revelled in the charm of the contrast before 
me. 

" Well, Mr. Smith !" said Harvey, handing the Indian 
his rifle, " we might as well be goin'. Good-by, Leo ! I'm 
comin' to see ye ! Down there yit, I s'pose !" pointing 
down the Racket. 

" Yese, yese," said the Indian, laughing as if the old 
trapper had uttered a good joke. 

" Good-bye !" 

'• Goo-bye !" and whistling to his dogs, that were revolv- 
ing in a snapping and gurgling ball on the bank, the old 
Indian shoved off. Harvey did the same, and we glided 
toward the left-hand channel of the river, on our way to 
the camp. 

The Indian, paddling on his knees in the middle of his 
canoe, turned the Park and wen^. down the Racket, mous- 
ing along the banks, his hunting-shirt as he descended 
dwindling to a red spot, which glanced in and out the 
thickets and hollows of the shores in the low sunshine like 
a jack-liglit, until an elbow of the stream shut it entirely 
from view. 

Coasting along the mid-channel island of the river we 

9 



195 

turned to the riglit, and entered the lake through the south 
channel. The waters were kindled in the sunset ; the top 
of Gull Pond Mountain was in a glow, and the islands of 
the Two Brothers had assumed the golden softness peculiar 
to the hour. The great star of the camp-fire was filling the 
nook with ruddy light, giving it, with the tinged tents 
and shanty, and figures moving about in the flitting flame, 
a picturesque as well as a genial look. As we approached 
we heard Bingham, just returned from a partridge hunt, 
as I discovered, detailing to his comrades at the highest 
pitch of his loud voice his exploit of the buck. 

The last lustre of the sunset was pouring into the camp. 
The hounds were gliding about all in a glitter ; a rod and 
rifle were pointing keen glances over a stump, and Bing- 
ham's buck, not yet dressed, was lying at a root sleeked 
over with light. 

The sunshine was peeping into the bushes, and striving 
to force its way into the forest. Although it made a high- 
rooted birch glow like a vast lamp hung upon the bank, it 
but edged the adjoining cedars. 

Pup again caught my eye. He was roaming about, lift- 
ing one ear and then the other, looking at the tree-tops, 
cantering and stopping short to bite off a fly, then twirling 
into a heap only to untwirl, see that the ring of his tail 
was perfect on his hollow back, and peer under the bushes. 
At length he stopped before a hollow tree with a hole at 
its root, and the play opened. Now he started back to his 
haunches ; then launched forward, streaming out in yells ; 
then bounded with all his feet from the ground back again, 
and then dashed his pointed nose beneath the beech to jerk 
it quickly away. Occasionally during these manoeuvres a 
grey paw, or slim whiskered snout, would dart out in the 
direction of the dog. At last Pup buried his head and 
shoulders under the tree, with one hind leg after the other 
quivering in mid-air. This was immediately succeeded 
by his hasty retreat with a hideous yell and a dismal 
whine, his nose one gore of blood. Bending it to the 



196 WOODS AND WATERS; 

earth, he rubbed it with his fore paw as if it were a nuisance 
to be rid of, glancing continually at the bush with a rueful 
air. At last Watch, who had been to all appearance sleeping 
between his paws, rose as though his patience was exhausted 
and he was resol ved to see what all this racket was about, 
and marched with a severe dignity and a not-to-be-baffled 
look to the bush. Pup had contented himself with peeping 
in at the basement, but Watch magisterially, with arched 
neck and lifted tail, looked in at the window. As he did 
so, he pealed his slogan, and rushing into the citadel, reap- 
peared, shaking a kicking, spitting, snarling woodchuck by 
its neck. After a short struggle, the battle ended in the 
death of the woodchuck, which was taken by one of the 
guides, who forthwith skinning and dressing it and stretch- 
ing the white, delicate frame on a pronged stick, proceeded 
to broil it for dinner. 

The evening wrapped around us sultry and close. The 
camp-fire died down, and as the darkness gathered there 
was a fine show of summer lightning. The tents flashed 
in and out — the shanty and trees stepped forward and 
back — a dog gleamed forth — a gun — a human form stood 
out and vanished ; and amid this black and red dance I 
retired to my bed of hemlock feathers and was soon asleep. 

I was awakened by a violent shake. 

" Come, Smith, wake up. It's about daylight, and if you 
sleep any longer what brains you have will evaporate. I 
can almost see them melt now." 

" What do you want, Bingham?" said I. 

" I want lake-trout. Harvey says we can't have a bet- 
ter time ; and if I don't make those buoys out there suffer, 
you may say, when you get back home, I didn't kill that 
buck. So, hurrah ! Smith, get up, and go with Harvey and 



I accordingly rose, and in a few minutes we were gliding 
toward the first buoy. 

'* The guides take a great deal of pains to bait these 
buoys," continued Bingham. '* According to Harvey, you i 



'I 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 197 

can hardly go amiss of one of these fish with worm-bait. 
Diet of Worms, eh ? But ph-e-w, how close it is. I wish we 
had brought Kenning out with us just as we left him. 
The tornado he raises with that nose of his would shake up 
the air a little, at all events. But here we are at the buoy. 
Now, Harvey, my line — hurrah 1" 

'' Hurra-a-a-h 1" 

" Hey !" said Bingham, seizing his rifle (he carried it 
wherever he went). " Where is he, Harvey ?" staring 
around. 

" There !" said Harvey. 

" Good-bye, Mr. Loon," exclaimed Bingham, firing. 

" Psh-a-a-ah," said the loon, ducking under. 

" He's a dead loon," said Bingham. 

" Wait," said Harvey. 

" Hurrah !" 

" There he is," said Harvey. 

" The deuce take his impu" — 

" Hurr-a-a a-h !" 

" Head up like a soger," said Harvey. 

" Let us get a little closer," said Bingham, fidgeting. " I 
didn't have a good chance that time." 

" Pshah psha — pish, pish — p-s-h-a-w-w-w ! Hurrah I 
hurrah ! hurrah ! " shouted the loon, burying himself 
nearly to his head. " Hurrah," rising again to his shape. 

" Now's your chance," grins Harvey. 

" Hurr" — bang. No loon there. 

" We'll see him floating on his back in a moment," said 
Bingham, confidently. 

" Hurrah." The sound rings proudly, but more distant. 
The loon's neck specks the water near the east Brother. 

" Psha-w-w-w, psha-w-w-w ; hurrah, hurrah, hurrah-eee," 
and with this final challenge the loon disappeared. 

Bingham tried to look unconcerned, but only succeeded 
in looking brazen. He turned once more to his line and 
threw it. For ten minutes he played it up and down, 
according to the approved mode. 



198 

• " Where the plague have the trout gone to, Harvey I" 
said he at length, crossly. 

" One has gone onter my hook," said Harvey ; " and 
from Mr. Smith's line, I guess another is on his'n." 

" There's none gone on mine, that's certain," looking 
fixedly at the fine specimen that Harvey raised and 
secured. " On the whole, I think breakfast must be on by 
this time. At all events it ought to be, judging from cer- 
tain interior feelings I have ; so let us go back to camp." 
And back we went. 

After breakfast we again divided. Gaylor and Eenning 
went with Mart to fish in Grindstone Brook; Bingham 
and Coburn with Cort and Sport, up the lake for a drive ; 
while Harvey and I visited the outlet bluff again, to troll 
the deep waters at its base. Will and Phin went to 
Simon's Pond with Drive, also for deer. Corey and Jess 
remained to take care of the camp. 

Not proving fortunate in trolling we decided to return to 
camp, particularly since what air there was proclaimed rain. 
After proceeding nearly across the lake, I saw a cloud in 
the west drop its gauzy ladder to the rim of the horizon. 
Beaching the camp I entered the tent, and watched the 
coming of the shower. 

The forest outlines on Gull Pond Mountain mingled 
greyly, then the whole mass was swallowed. Over the 
darkening lake the dense mist moved, devouring the pros- 
pect. The pyramid of a cedar on the farthest of the Two 
Brothers melted ; a group of jagged, scorched hemlocks died 
away ; a skeleton pine, rearing the nest of a fish-hawk, like 
a skull, glided back, and the whole island vanished. The 
nearer Brother was next in a misty mingle, and then with 
a rush the shower was upon us. The prospect was limited 
to a white half circle of water, with dim images of rocks 
and trees around me. The camp, so sofi: and pleasant in 
the sunset of the day before, became in a moment reeking 
with wet. The hounds, however, enjoyed it hugely. Pup, 
having washed his face from the blood, was as frolicsome as 



199 

a boy in the snow. He lapped the pools, snapped at the 
drops and shook them into sprinkles from his coat, while 
the sober Watch, having endured quite philosophically the 
liquid beating on the wind side of a thicket, settled himself 
by the camp fire, thrust out his paws as if to dry them, and 
blinked at the rain. 

At length the halloo of a loon sounded from the mist, 
and out he glided ; the rain ceased; to the wand of a sun- 
beam, the misty curtain lifted, and there was the instan- 
taneous glitter of a diamond scene. In another half-hour, 
however, a new shower came, swallowing the lake in its 
mist from the south, and changing again into jewel-work 
under the sun. 

For the next two or three hours, there was a quick inter- 
weaving of rain and sunlight. The former would streak 
the scene ; then blue eyes would open in the sky. The 
arcades of the forest would glow, darken, be masked in the 
shower, and flash again into gold. 

Things continued so until past noon, when the clouds 
blended themselves into one smooth leaden mantle, and a 
rain set in, which, from its obstinate look and pertinacious 
pour, threatened to last a week. There was such a sulky 
pig-headed air about the storm, a determination to give the 
whole scene " the devil " (according to Bingham) this time, 
that I began to find a legion of devils flitting about my 
spirits. At the expiration of some three or four hours, 
however, I was most agreeably disappointed. The lead- 
color above whitened, then broke into large fragments, 
while a splendid gathering of clouds at the west com- 
menced to kindle, as if under a strong wind, for a gorgeous 
sunset. And gorgeous it was — peaks of gold, ridges of 
crimson, waves of purple, filling the west and firing the lake. 

Emerging from a path Ijdng on the water, like a crimson 
column, a returning boat appeared, which a nearer view 
showed to contain Bingham and Cort. 

"Phew!" said the former, taking two strides from the 
stern to an old green log at the margin. " Ph-e-e-w ! if 



200 

ever there was a poor devil glad to get back here, I am. 
This watching a runway in the rain, with no run on the 
way but the rain, which run away like the deuce, especi- 
ally my way, and was most confoundedly in the way, till I 
wished I was out of the way, is about the meanest thing in 
my experience, especially when the pocket-bottle gives out, 
as mine did. It was literally — 

' Water, water every where, 
Nor any drop to drink.' 

Cort, make me a glass of punch." 

This harangue, delivered with the greatest volubility 
and in the most stentorian sounds, made the woods echo ; 
and after the delivery, the excited orator took a seat on a 
stump, with an eye on the glass which the long suffering 
Cort was hastening to manufacture. 

" We had better luck," said Renning (he and Gaylor 
had reached the camp from an opposite direction, while 
Bingham was roaring) ; and he placed a basket brimmed 
with glittering trout on a log. " There are thirty pounds 
there, at least ! Good game trout, too ; none less than half 
a pound, and from that up to two, and in one or two 
instances, three." 

" Never was the old adage about a fool and luck more 
strikingly verified than in an instance happening on Tup- 
per's Lake on a certain day in the present month of 
August," said Bingham. " I've about made up my mind 
to abandon shooting and take to fishing. Any blockhead 
can fish, but it takes the wits of ten Yankee pedlars, and 
the patience of twenty Jobs, to do the shooting. I've about 
made up my mind now there are no deer in the woods." 

" I didn't catch the trout at Tupper's Lake," said Ren- 
ning. " We found poor sport at Grindstone Brook, so we 
went down to Setting Pole Rapids." 

" Who said you did catch them at Tupper's Lake ?" 
returned Bingham. " I appeal to the company if my 
respected comrade here doesn't show a marvellous alacnty 



I 



201 

in applying to himself the adage mentioned. I think it a 
remarkable, if not painful, instance of self-consciousness. 
Ah, Cort, this glass is fit for Jove !" 

*'I knowed a feller by the name o' Joe," said honest 
Cort, " that was the best hand at makin' a glass o' punch I 
ever see. And when he made it, he could drink it, too, 
and without winkin'. Good gracious, how that feller could 
liquor up I He druv the river for a livin', and was the 
best hand about here. He was called Driver Joe. I've 
seen 'm drive logs" 

" I wish I could see you drive musquitoes," interrupted 
Bingham. " Every drop of rain to-day has hatched a 
family of them, and hungry-mad at that," threshing 
about. " Coburn, your skin is thicker than mine, some- 
thing like sole-leather, I take it, from the looks — do come 
here and let them settle on you. You will this way do 
more good than youVe done to-day, for I believe the deer 
went by on your runway, where you doubtless were asleep, 
while I, awake and watchful, saw nothing. But there's 
one thing about it, Coburn ; I hope Renning and Gaylor 
won't celebrate their luck to-night with one of their con- 
founded choruses ! I can stand anything mortal, but 
when it comes to sounds so utterly diabolical, I yield — eh, 
Smith ?" and Bingham, after scenting a pinch of pulverized 
tobacco (he had forsworn all other use of the weed), began 
examining his gunlock. 

Deep in the evening, while I was watching the stars 
glittering through the black trees. Will and Mart appeared 
with a doe they had shot at Grindstone Bay. The moment 
Sport and Pup saw each other, they rushed into one 
embrace, rolling over and over with yelps and harmless 
bites ; and it was not until Will threw each a slice from 
the venison which was already dressing hy the light of 
the camp-fire, that they separated, attacking the slices, 
tooth and nail, and wheeling their eye-balls round, as if 
every stick and stone were in wait to wrest their morsels 
from them. 



202 WOODS AND WATEES; 



CHAPTER XVII. 

Thunder-storms. — Lightning Island. — Thoughts at the Indian Pass. — A high 
"Wind. — Captain Bill Snyder. — Night Sail in the Wind. — Cove at the 
Devil's Pulpit. — Mist on the Water, — Harvey's Indian Story. 

Although clear, the succeeding morning was warmer 
and closer than the last. There was a brooding calm after 
the first freshness of the dawn had vanished, which hung 
like a weight upon the frame and spirits. 

The trees dozed in the languid light ; the hazy islands 
looked drowsy ; and the opposite hills seemed half dis- 
solved in the warm, dreamy mist. 

After an hour's sport at Redside Brook, we were driven 
back by the sultriness of the air, and the sun which beat 
like a great burning-glass upon the lake. 

The morning was passed in the camp — all seeking the 
most comfortable positions. Bingham's long legs were 
sprawling in everybody's way, until he adopted the expe- 
dient of lying on his back and crossing them, with his toe 
in the air like the tip of a balsam fir. The hounds moved 
sluggishly, or coiled themselves at the apertures of the 
thickets, where the slightest air could draw, with their 
tongues lolling from their mouths, and their tawny forms 
streaked with sweat. The delicate-stemmed maple-leaf 
did not show a glimpse of its pearly lining ; and even the 
wild poplar, that quakes if a raven fan it, gave scarce a 
flutter. From the edges of the forest came the snappish 
bark of the ground-squirrel, slinking under the shady logs 
and roots, as if in complaint of the heat. Over its floor, 
too, ran a slight rustle, as though the dead leaves were also 
restless and were striving to turn over. Across the glass 

9* 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 203 

of the lake, quavered with startling distinctness, and waken- 
ing a thousand echoes, the cry of the loon ; now it was the 
despairing shout of some drowning wretch, and now the tri- 
umphant whoop of an Indian warrior on the trail of his foe. 

About noon, the hot, filmy sky became broken at the 
south-west by glaring white vapor tinged with copper. 

At length two crags of cloud rapidly rose over the 
shoulders of Gull Pound Mountain. Up they moved above 
the darkened summit, deepening as they came, till they 
frowned black as the ravens on the shoulders of Woden. 

As they approached, they joined into a mass, with streaks 
of vivid red darting through its heart, as if it were cracking 
open in the terrible flame behind it. 

The lake blackened ; glances of lightning quivered over 
it, and volumes of thunder unrolled their jarring lengths. 
The swells danced ; the quick white-caps flashed ; the woods 
of the Two Brothers tossed to and fro, in the outburst of 
the wind ; then a blinding glare, a quick, ringing, splitting 
bolt, as if the heart of the forest had been cleft ; and the 
rain tumbled. All now was one wild turmoil of howling 
winds and writhing trees, and driving rain sheets, and the 
hoarse dash of the foaming lake. 

At length, through the driving scud, a large object sud- 
denly broke, which we saw was an eagle borne struggling 
on the wind. One wing was evidently injured. On he 
came, swooping and tumbling, and, wafted over the tops 
of the trees, was lost in the rainy mist behind. 

The fierce mountain storm soon passed, and the afternoon 
was quiet and beautiful. 

Corey and Harvey being bound for Stetson's, to replen- 
ish some of our stores, I accompanied them. 

When half way up, however, an angry black and red 
sunset glared through the woods upon us, threatening 
trouble. 

We obtained our meal, milk and maple sugar, and started 
on our return. Corey was at the oars and Harvey at the 
paddle, and we skimmed t^irough a gloom which (although 



204 WOODS AND WATEKS; 

the eagle eyes of the guides pierced it) was to me like a 
cavern's. Except the sounds of our waj, the ear of Heim- 
dall could not have detected a whisper in the woods or on 
the water. 

Suddenly the black sky opened in a quick, fierce glance 
of lightning, displaying enormous clouds, hanging low 
over the forest and water. A growl of thunder succeeded. 
Then came another glare, redder, fiercer, and a peal was 
launched that made the ear ring. 

The storm now burst. The lightning kindled an almost 
stationary blaze in the clouds, and there was nearly one 
grand continuous roll of thunder. The rain streamed 
upon us, while the roaring of the woods told that the 
wind had spread its pinions. Steadily onward we went, 
however, to the torch of the lightning, the trees, rocks, 
windings of the banks, and spaces of water glaring out in 
the fierce crimson, until, leaving the kindled and black- 
ened vista of the river, we emerged upon the wrathful lake. 
We had not danced far over the wild swells and through 
the tinged rain, when a blue, forked flash left the ragged 
zenith. It fell upon the top of a towering pine, on the East 
Brother Island, like the hammer of Thor on the forehead of 
Thrym. The top burst into flame, casting a scarlet track 
upon the lake and flooding our boat with a passing glare. 

But now the logs of the shore, the tents, the trees, the 
very streak of water-lilies edging the shallow, the red pic- 
ture of the camp painted by the lightning, gleamed into 
view, and, in a few moments, we had safely moored the 
Bluebird, and entered the shelter of the tent. 

The stars were soon shining from between the parted 
clouds, but the pine tree still burned, and by the light of 
this gigantic candle I sank into my dreams. 

Fresh and breezy, rose the following morning ; the sky 
was a delicious blue, asrainst which the trees waved their 
tops joyously, the leaves fluttering and flashing, while the 
fragrance of the woods was delightful. The eagle sailed 
up the stream of the wind, dipping his wings either side. 



OK, THE SAKANACS AND KACKET. 205 

and the loon glided below, his brindled shape clearly cut 
against the crystal air. 

The deep black shadows were drawn in hair lines in the 
sunlight, while the million ripples of the lake bore each a 
star upon its front. 

The whole party, except Corey and Jess, Harvey and 
myself, left for a drive. The first two busied themselves 
in drying some venison, while the old guide and I launched 
on the lake toward the buoys. 

" The wind was consid'ble heavy at one time yisterday," 
said Harvey, " but I've knowed it blow a good deal harder 
on these waters round. There was a man blowed clean off 
a raft on the lower lake, one spring. 'Twas a river-driver, 
Sassy Dick we called him, and the sassiest kite, next to a 
loon, I ever come crost. Well, he was on a dozen logs, 
comin' down the lake, and when he got within a mile or 
so of the outlet, a gust come and took him clean off his legs 
inter the lake. He was a fust best swimmer, and kept up 
nice, though the swells was orful, and after a little while 
he made out to git onter the raft agin, that was catwollopin' 
about in the lake, and went a swashin' along till he got 
inter the S'nac river. 

" That pine too was a good deal of a sight," continued 
he. " I see another tree, oust, struck jest about as cluss. 
'Twas in an island in the Lower S'nac, not fur from Mar- 
tin's. It's called Lightnin' Island, by some. The tree 
was cut round like a corkscrew, and as deep as my finger. 
I see 't done. I was comin' from Bartlett's one afternoon 
in J'ly, and h-o-t 'twas — why it raally 'peared to me as ef 
the water 'd bile ! Well, all on a sudden, as I was rowin' 
'long, a do-zin' like, the lake turned as black as a loon's bill, 
and jest as I come abreast o' the island, massy, didn't there 
come a flash! Why I thought my eyes was scorched right 
out ; and 'twas follered right along by a crack. Goll, ef 
it didn't seem to split me right in two ! It struck that tree. 
But spos'n we don't try the b'ys this mornin', but see if we 
can't git some trout at Grindstone Brook." 



206 

We went tap, tap, tapping across the lake to Grindstone 
Bay, where the brook tumbles down the rocky stairs of the 
bank, and in an hour filled our basket with large and hand- 
some trout. 

*' There's a little pond up there," said Harvey, pointing 
to the north-west, " and follerin' a brook along the same 
p'int o' compass brings you to Gull Pond. The outlet o' 
the Pond jines the Racket twixt Settin' Pole Rapids and 
Fish Hawk Rapids, nigh the head o' Fish Hawk. But 
what say ye to a short tramp in the woods jest fur a 
channge?" 

The emerald, gold-dotted light of the forest was grateful 
after the glare on the lake; and the fresh, cool air was so 
invigorating I seemed to step on springs. 

At length we retraced our way to the boat. 

At the camp we found the party returned from their 
drive, with a fine doe. We had a pleasant dinner in the 
sunset, and as the broad yellows and blacks began to shrink 
into stripes and patches over the land and water, we rowed 
to Redside Brook for an hour of twilight angling. 

On our return the auroral splendors — the weird valkyrior 
of the Scandinavian Runes — arose. Up sprang these wild 
riders of the North, urging their rainbow-steeds far up 
the steeps ; wielding their battle-axes, dashing their spears, 
and waving their banners in the magic tournament of the 
dark-blue field above. 

A moaning wind was in the forest when I awoke. A 
sombre sky greeted us, the lake looked grey and mournful. 
After our morning meal the whole camp, except Corey, 
Harvey and myself, went to Perciefield Falls and Simon's 
*' Slew," for fishing and driving. 

I sat beside our tent and listened to the wind. A deso- 
late wail thrilled through the wood, that plunged me into 
the deepest sadness. But once only, and that since, have my 
thoughts been so sorrowful. Then I was under the grand 
battlements of the Indian Pass. Weary with wandering 
through the woods, I halted a little distance from the Pass, 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 



207 



in the dim twilight of a cloudj day, to bivouac for the 
night. At my side whispered the ripples of a little stream, 




THE INDIAN PASS. 



and to accompany my frugal meal, it furnished me a draught 
from its cold goblet of crystal. Before me towered that 
stupendous wall, the north barrier of the Pass, second only 
in sublimity to that natural wonder of our State, Niagara. 
Then also a wailing wind went through the forest. Night 
came on apace. As I gazed upon the rock, soaring and 
looming in the darkness, the wind seemed to say, " Poor, 
fleeting mortal, what art thou to this work of untold ages ! 
Does it not rebuke thee with its grandeur, and crush thee 
with the frowning of its strength ? And if a mere rock, a 



208 WOODS AND WATEES; 

grain brushed from the Almighty's hand, thus awes thee 
into nothing, how darest thou claim immortal life, the 
loftiest attribute of that Almighty !" And a more bitter 
mockery seemed to deepen in the wind. 

" Thou pratest of a soul ! Thou, to arrogate what is 
denied this stately pile ! thou, perishing as the flower it 
nourishes in its clefts ! Away with thy presumptuous 
folly ! Know this and tremble — to thee and thy wretched 
race, the end cometh with the grave !" 

I shuddered to the core of my heart. I felt utterly 
abandoned and desolate. The after life that sheds its smile 
upon the dark trouble of this, was it indeed a fantas}^ ? 

While I thus mused, a cloud overshadowed the rock and 
blotted it from my sight. But above me beamed a star 
lone through a rift in the cloudy mantle. A mere point it 
was, and yet so pure, so brilliant, my nature rose expand- 
ing as I gazed. The wind no longer spoke ; music instead 
seemed lengthening from the star. 

" Fear not, and be not sorrowful," my heart thus inter- 
preted the cadence ; " thou bearest a light within that shall 
shine when I, counting my life by centuries, have for ever 
vanished. Though perishing as the flower, thou art eter- 
nal as God. Let the consciousness of this sublime truth 
rest ever upon thee, and may it prove thy felicity and not 
thy curse !" 

The earth was my bed that night, with the swinging pine 
for canopy ; and through the forest tore and raved the chilly 
wind, but a happy glow was at my heart, and my slumber 
was balmy and sweet. 

And often now, the memory of that night rises soft and 
clear, and the shadows that oppress me flee away. 

The clouds looked wilder, the wind strengthened, the 
lake grew darker. Swelling more and more, the blast 
swooped through the rocking forest. Far away would 
•sound a deep roar, increasing rapidly into trampling thun- 
der ; the gust would then burst over head with the shock of 
a mighty billow, and sweep furiously down the foaming lake. 



AND KACKET. 209 

At the forest edge, the white pine streamed out crazily, 
the maple was in convulsions, and the aspen seemed as if 
it would fracture itself into atoms. 

Nor did the lowly tribes of the forest floor escape the 
searching wind. The adder's-tongue hissed to the trem- 
bling, shrinking Indian Plume ; the sword-grass and arrow- 
head exchanged quick passes, and the bulrush beat with 
its brown war-club the purple helmet of the moosehead. 

At length, I summoned Harvey, and as the wind had 
somewhat lessened, we launched the little Bluebird upon 
the lake. Watch leaping in at Harvey's call as we left the 
shore. 

Up we went. The white-caps gleamed and the dash of 
the tossing swells filled our ears. We landed at last off the 
foot of Long Island, in a little cove on the west shore of the 
lake. It was a wild, tangled, jagged spot; dead pines 
slanting from the foliage, streaming with grey moss ; firs 
bending outward; cedars pointing straight to the water, 
and a multitude of dry twigs, steeped in moss, tangled all 
about. Old trees lay in the water, which last was clustered 
broadly with water lilies. Lighting a fire, we passed the 
afternoon gazing at the swells rolling and frothing over the 
lake ; at the trees bending and writhing to the wind, and in 
listening to the volume of sound poured by it through the 
woods. Various tones made up that sound ; howls, like 
a giant in agony ; shrieks, like a score of perishing victims ; 
unearthly, mocking voices, as if from a legion of maniacs, 
sinking occasionally to one lingering cry, like a wail over 
a lost soul. 

Deep, dead, prolonged shocks of sound would also fre- 
quently echo — the fall of great trees overturned by the 
wind. 

Amid all this tumult, my ear was caught by strange, 
wild tones, that issued from a neighboring ridge. Now 
shrill screams, then jarring screeches ; they made my blood 
run cold. 

" In the name of wondei-, Harvey, what sounds are these? 



210 

If the Saranac Indians were here now, I should think they 
were torturing some one at the stake." 

Harvej laughed, and leading the way a little up the 
ridge, pointed to where one pine leaned, from the loosening 
of its roots, against another, and was swayed to and fro by 
the gusts. 

" Talkin' of Injins," said Harvey, " when I fust come to 
the S'nac with father, there was nobody else about there 
but Injins. I used to meet 'm on the lakes fishin' in their 
bark canoes, and trappin' about the streams, and huntin' 
everywheres. They was great hands to still-hunt and good 
shots too. There was a tribe on Bear Island in the Lower 
S'nac, and one Injin — come here. Watch ! what are yer 
hazin' and nosin' about fur ! we don't want ter roust out 
no deer now ! come here and stay here, or there'll be a 
yellin' in the woods enough to wake up dead folks ! — one 
Injin, a young feller, killed another of the same tribe. He 
ran away down here to Tupper's Lake, but he was ketched, 
and the chief killed 'im with his tommyhawk. I was trappin' 
on Mink Island when the others fetched 'im back. 

" There was old Captain Bill Snyder, he was o' that tribe. 
He lived around here until about fifteen years sin', huntin', 
fishin' and trappin', to the last. One day I met 'im though, 
jest — there's a hawk bin sailin' over that fire-slash for the 
last five minutes ; I shouldn't much wonder ef there was a 
dead deer, or mebby a sick fa'n in the deer- weeds there ; or 
mebby it's only a woodchuck — well, 'twas jest this side o' 
the Middle Falls, 'twixt Eound Lake and the Lower S'nac, 
all painted up, and an eagle's feather in his sculp-lock. 

" He hadn't nothin' on but a strip o' wolf-skin round 
his body. He'd got to be then about ninety. Well, I 
axed 'im where — a trout jumped up then by that lily-blow, 
a good un, a two-pounder I should jedge — where he was 
goin' fixed up so, and he said in his way, 'Down dare,' 
p'intin' hereaway. * Ole Injin on war path ; nebber come 
back. Goo' bye ! Too ole ; don't want to live no more — 
goo' bye I' 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 211 

" He never was heerd on agin, that is, for sartin. Joe 
Platter, or Hunter Joe, as the}^ called 'm, who was shantyin' 
at that time on the Injin Park out there, huntin' by Little 
Wolf Pond, about a month after, come upon a couple o' 
wolves, snarlin' and fightin' over a passle o' bones in a 
little holler o' rocks. He shot one, and that skeered away 
t'other, and he picked up a feather that he showed me, and 
'twas 'zactly like the one I saw on Cap'n Bill's head ; but 
there was no knowin' to a sartenty what did happen to the 
old chap." 

The wild and troubled sunset came, and the drear twi- 
light. The wind, which had been increasing since our 
landing so as to render dangerous an attempt to return, 
began to lull at the folding in of the darkness. 

Although the night was black with the great clouds that 
rolled over the sky like stormy billows, and the roar of the 
lake still hoarse and threatening, Harvey at last decided 
on returning to the camp. 

True, with a fire and under the boat, we might have 
passed the night somewhat comfortably ; but there was a 
dash of wild romance to me in wrestling with the fierce 
lake ; besides, Harvey's word in all wood matters was law. 

We embarked, and over the black rolling water we went, 
against the swells, Harvey at the oars, and I at the paddle. 
Harvey had lighted his jack, and the ghastly foam glistened 
as it flew about us, and I felt the sprinkles of the spray, 
raked off by the wind. Still onward we danced through 
the darkness, and Harvey's blithesome whistle blended with 
the wind. 

At length, a low roar in the distance caught my ear; 
rapidly it approached ; Harvey ceased his careless whistle 
and braced himself to his oars. 

^' It's comin', Mr. Smith, look out !" said he, dipping his 
oars deep, and lifting himself from his seat as he pulled. 

"What, Harvey?" 

u rpi^Q gyg^ Q> wind. It 'ill make the Bluebird jump, 
but I consate she'll hold her own. We shan't go- fur, 



212 WOODS AND WATEKS; 

though, afore I'll try shelter. It's too squally a night to be 
out." 

On came the gust. It struck us; the little Bluebird 
staggered as if hit by a blow, and swung off; two black 
walls of water foamed beside us, and the air was, for a 
moment, filled with flying spray. 

The next, her head rose up a steep swell, and onward we 
darted, rising and sinking, the howl of the wind mingling 
with the dash of the rollers. 

Suddenly a black, towering mass burst out of the 
gloom. 

"The Devil's Pulpit," said Harvey. " I guess I'll try 
the cove." 

There was a loud wash of waves for a moment, and a 
glimpse of climbing foam. The boat seemed about to be 
dashed against the beetling precipice, that looked as if a 
portion of the murky darkness had become solid, when we 
glided instantaneously into smooth water. 

" Here we are !" said Harvey, " snug as in the Harriets- 
town mill-pond. We'll hev a fire in the rocks here in a 
jiffy, and make ourselves as comfortable as we kin. We've 
got the jack to see by, and " (rummaging in the box at the 
bow) " here's crackers, and goll ! if there aint a couple o' 
ducks here too 1 The b'ys must have shot 'm, put 'm 
in the box here and forgot it. But they'll do for our 
supper." 

So saying he paddled the boat between a labyrinth of 
old logs in the water next the margin, landed on a rock, 
followed by myself and Watch, drew the boat on the edge 
of the gravel, and then separating the jack from its handle 
flashed the light around. We were at the threshold of a 
large fissure in a rock, with a cedar slanting over, and 
dense foliage on either side. Soon Harvey had a fire blaz- 
ing in front, and a bed of hemlock boughs on the floor of the 
nook, over which, dividing it into two equal portions, a 
dead trunk had fallen. 

All without was tumult, all within, peace. 



QR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 213 

Rage, cruel wind I in vain thy wrath 1 

The shelter of this isle I share 1 
No more to-night the billowy path 

My swift but fragile bark will dare. 
I hear the blast in roaring flight, 

I hear the surge in angry shock, 
But feel the camp-fire's generous light 

Flooding with joy my nook of rock. 

Soft radiance bathes the slumbering hound ; 

It flits athwart my stalwart guide 
Who, on his couch, a rest hath found ; 

I also soon will seek his side. 
Hark ! was not that the panther's scream 

Borne from yon rock upon the blast ? 
But ruddier leaps my camp-fire's gleam, 

And livelier joy around is cast. 

Rage, cruel wind I my little bark 

Trembled as down thy fury fell I 
Wild foam flew glancing through the dark 

Death seemed to ride on every swell : 
Without, the blackness blinds my view ; 

Billow and forest blend their roar ; 
Within, falls quiet's blessed dew ; 

Come, slumber, spread thy pinion o'er ! 

The wind had ceased as I looked out from my nook at 
sunrise, but the lake was lost in mist. Soon, however, a 
broad beam of the sun cleft it, and the light wind caused it 
to rise. How beautiful was that rising ! Silver billows 
rolled over the lake ; spotless pinions waved above. Now 
gleamed the walls and summits of a city, now an enormous 
forest moved slowly by, and now a grove of pearl. The 
masses vanished, leaving fragments to work their magic. 
Was that the white canoe of Hi-a-wont-ha stealing into yon 
winding cove ? See that white eagle clinging to the pine ! 
And so the mist went curling up, until its flakes all melted 
upon the rich blue of the summer heaven. 

As we floated toward the camp, Harvey told me of a wiz- 
ard shape, a white spectre, that on misty mornings the hunt- 
ers had been accustomed to see around and upon the lake. 



214 WOODS AND WATERS; 

Now it glanced through the forest, now it trod the water. 
It climbed the hill, it threaded the gully ; it was a pan- 
ther in the tree or a wolf on the rock ; a deer in the grass; 
a fisherman at the brook or a hunter in the glen. 

" As for me," said Harvey in conclusion, " I al'ys telled 
the consarned fools twant nothin' but a piece o' mist, but 
most on 'm wouldn't bleeve but they see some one o' them 
things, 'tick'ally them that had bin out all night with 
whiskey in the boat. Them last 'ud stick to 't so fur as to 
say sometimes that each man on 'm not unly see one 
painter and deer and what not, but, goll, ef they wouldn't 
say they see two." 

Beaching the camp in time to take breakfast with the 
others, we again embarked upon the lake, all scattering 
as usual to different points for fishing or hunting. The 
day's beauty was just fitted for exploration and the enjoy- 
ment of leisure and freedom. 

" How many islands belong to this lake, Harvey ?" asked 
I, as we approached the Two Brothers. 

" Forty-two," he answered. " Some on 'm hev names, 
but the most part don't. There's the two afore us ; and 
next up'ards is Birch and Long Island, and the two Nor- 
way Islands next, and then Jinkins's Island, and another 
at the head. 

" Folks gin'rally say," he continued, " that Tupper's 
Lake is the handsomest piece o' water in the whull region, 
but to my thinkin' the Upper S'nac is. The head on't is 
the beautifulest I ever set eyes on. Standi n' on a little 
rocky island called Goose Island, where I've camped 
many's the time, there's water round ye four miles broad, 
with unly one more island nigh, a leetle round rock that 
looks like a snappin' turkle's back. But still, Tupper's 
Lake 's nicie, 'tick'ally the head on't that we'll see on our 
way to Mud Lake." 

We landed on the west Brother, leaving the Bluebird 
with a knot of white lilies touching her waist like a bouquet. 
We lay in the warm, brown hollows, sprinkled with light 



215 

througli the network of giant hemlocks ; glanced out upon 
the water, that shot here and there a keen glance ; watched 
those feathered mice, the ground-birds, leaping along and 
bending their dusky red turbans this way and that over 
the decayed leaves ; and listened to the squall of the blue- 
jay and the rat-tat-tat of the woodpecker. 

Island after island tucked away in the north-western 
part of the lake, we visited, inhaling the fresh odors of the 
water, laving our arms and brows in its balmy softness 
and enjoying the shady coolness and speckled light. 

At length we glided through the outlet, and along the 
beautiful basin that opened before the green sandal of the 
Indian Park. 

" A tribe o' S'nac Injins lived on the Park there, onst 
upon a time," said Harvey, dipping softly alternate oars. 
" Old Sabele telled me a story about 'm one day that I'll 
tell ye, ef you'd like to hear it. Don't ye feel dry ? 
(producing a pocket bottle from the box at the bow, swal- 
lowing a large draught and following it with a sip or two 
of water, in his hand, from the boatside.) This lake 
water's so warm, it want's suthin' to take the sun out on't. 
But as I was sayin', this tribe was a part o' the one that 
lived on the Injin Carry in' Place. They had a quarrel, 
and so this part came down here, and the other stayed up 
there. Well, things went on so bad that they wouldn't 
speak when they came crost one another ; and every now 
and then the big bugs 'mong 'm, when they happened to 
bunk up agin each other on the Packet or round, would 
hev a fight with their sculpin'-knives and tommyhawks, as 
politicianers 'mong us white folks, whenever they come 
t'gether on 'lection day, pitch in and give one another 
lickety-whack. Well (this talkin' makes me kinder dry), 
bimeby there was queer doin's noticed around and about 
the Park, or rayther he was fust seen at Simon's Slew, not 
that 'twas Simon's Slew then ; I don't know 't 'ad enny 
name then, onless 'twas some Injin name ; and I'll tell ye 
what 'tis, Mr. Smith, there's more inkstand in some o' them 



216 WOODS AND WATERS; 

Injin names than one 'ud s'pose tliem kinder haythen sort 
o' people, as a body may say, knowed. Now, there's a 
good many of these Injin names about" 

'' But about the story, Harvey ?" 

*' Oh, lets me see ! I've got so many things to think on ! 
How fur had I got?" 

"Mercy knows; but you were saying that he (whoever 
that may be) was first seen at Simon's Slew." 

" He — why that was the young Injin b' Ion gin' to the 
Injin Carry tribe that came a-sparkin' the gal that b'longed 
to the Injin Park tribe. His name was — well, I never kin 
think o' names, but it meant in Injin, The Big Wind what 
Howls. I'll call him Howl fur short. The gal's name 
was Hop-so-me-turvy, or some sich name ; but I'll call her 
Hopsy. I knowed a gal when I was a young man by that 
name, that jest was — wa-a-1, I won't say there hasn't bin as 
nice gals as Hopsy, but I will say there haint bin no nicer. 
Oh, that gal! — why don't you take suthin' too, Mr. Smith? 
this whiskey is fust best! — couldn't she dance ! and wasn't 
she a hoss at singin' ! We had singin' school at Harriets- 
town oust a week, and a chap — an all-fired good singer, too 
— he was a school-teacher by the name of — well, I bleeve 
I'll forgit my own name one o' these days. He was a 
Yankee, that chap, and I kinder consate he'd been a 
peddler. I calkilate he could do the thing up in the way 
o' singin about as well as enny a-goin', that is, in my 
'pinion. I don't w^ant nobody to s'pose I want folks to 
bleeve that 'caze I say so 'tis so. I've as good right to my 
'pinion as ennybody has to his'n ; and my 'pinion is, that 
that chap was about as good a singer as" 

" But the story, Harvey, the story." 

" Oh, yes, sarten. You don't remember where I left ofi*, 
do ye ?" 

" You were speaking of Hopsy, the Indian girl." 

" Yes, yes. She and Howl got 'quainted somehow on 
the Eacket ; he skeered off a wolf, I bleeve, that was 
a-goin', or Hopsy consated was a-goin' (but 'twant no sich 



217 

thing : there aint no wolf on the Racket, nur nowhere else, 
that a human critter couldn't skeer off, onless he was 
al-mighty hungry) to make mince-meat on her. 'T all 
events, they got a hankerin' after each other, as b'ys and 
gals will ; and as 'twouldn't do for 'm to keep comp'ny 
afore folks, as both tribes 'ud a bin in their hair then, they 
got t'gether behind their backs, as 'twere, that is, around 
and about the Injin Park, when they thought nobody 
wasn't seein' on 'm. 

" This love business, Mr. Smith, is a cur'ous thing. 
Some love one thing, some another, some half a dozen 
things ter oust. Now, I love tobaccy, and trout, and 
ven'son, and inions ; and I tell yer, Mr. Smith, what's old 
hunderd in the way of eatin' — it's two things — a moose's 
lip and a beaver's tail. Ef you ever happen to light on 
'm, and don't say they're the best eatin' you ever had, you 
may say right to my face I'm a fool. But talkin' about 
this love : there's a good many people loves rum, and I 
don't think it bad, sometimes, myself — won't ye take a 
1-e-e-tle suthin' ? it'll do yer good, this hot day ! — but, as I 
was sayin', as a gin'ral thing, young folks loves one 
another, and these two did to death a'most ; and so, as I 
was a sayin', they'd come t'gether when they cackilated no 
one was a-lookin'. 

" But there was somebody, though : a feller b'longin' to 
the same tribe she did, that had a hank'rin' after her too, 
and was consarnedly put out that she didn't take to him. 
Well, whether he kinder consated there was another feller 
— that stake-driver looks kinder sassy in that slash there, 
and I've a great mind ter — off with ye, ef ye must go — 
another feller that she liked better, or whether he'd seen 
'm t'gether when he was a snoopin' around, I most forgit 
what Sabele said about it. 'T all events, he got all-fired 
jealous, and went a-snoopin' and a-sneakin' round — what 
was his name? — well, I'll call him Snoop-round — and 
he found out the place where they used to come t'gether 
on moonshiny nights, and all kinds o' nights, for th^t 

10 



218 WOODS AND WATERS; 

matter. Well, I forgot to say that Hopsy was darter to 
the chief or boss of the Injin Park consarn, and Howl was 
son to the boss up there at the Carry. Well, now, Mr. 
Smith, I'll tell ye what 'tis — won't ye raally take another 
drink? it's rael old hunderd, this whiskey. Well, as I 
was say in', there's mighty mean men in this world ! men 
that 'ud kill a doe with a fa'n by her side, jest as lives as 
not, and a leetle liver, ef they'd a notion they could make 
a little suthin' by't ; and what's jest as bad, that 'ud kill 
half a dozen deer, mebby, when they didn't want more 'n 
one, ef they did that, and the consekens is, there they lay 
for the painters and wolves to feed on. I've seen a good 
deal of sich kind o' business in my life. Onst, at Big Wolf 
Pond, I" 

" But the story, Harvey ! You were telling how jealous 
the young Indian was." 

" Oh yes. He got so jealous, he up and telled the old 
man, that is, the old Boss, the old Boss I mean that had 
Hopsy fur a darter. Let's see — his name now ! wasn't it 
Linkumdoddy ? No ! that's in the chorius of a song Will 
Johnson sings. What was it ? — well I'll call 'm Linkum- 
doddy, or, I guess, Linkum fur short. As I was sayin'- 
let's me see, what was I sayin' ? — oh ! about Snoop-round 
tellin' the old man ! Wasn't the old feller riled ? I tell 
ye, he'd horns down and mane up 1 He was a terrible farse 
old critter, and he up and telled Snoopy to take two or three 
with 'im, and crooch in amboosh, and when Howl and 
Hopsy was t'gether, to pounce on Howl like a hawk on a 
June bug, and haul 'im right up to the old Boss. The next 
thing old Linkum did, says he to Hopsy, ' Darter o' the 
S'nacs,' s'ze, ' the Pine o' the clouds,' ' s'ze, ' bends his head,' 
s'ze — I can't give it to ye in the hifalutin way old Sabele 
used ter, but the idee on't was that he, the Poppy, that is 
old Linkum, was a mighty big bug, in his own consate, 
enny waj'", and was 'shamed that he had a darter that could 
make sich a fool of herself as to keep comp'ny with a feller 
b'longin' -to t'other tribe, and that as fur 'lowin' it he'd see 



OR, THE S ARAN ACS AND RACKET. 219 

her— that is as much as to say — that is, ef a feller wanted 
me to do a thing I wouldn't do no way, I'd say I'd see 'im 
dod darned to darnation fust and then I wouldn't. 

"But somehow or the other — you know what gals is, 
Mr. Smith — she didn't mind her daddy ; and I consate she 
wasn't old hunderd there, fur ef I tell my darter not to 
keep comp'ny with a young feller fur reasons best knowed 
to myself 'and after that she doos — why 'taint my fault but 
hern, and ef I ketch the young feller around and about, I'll 
twist 'im out of his boots, and as fur her, why — well, no 
matter — but mas-sy I wouldn't do nothin' like what old 
Linkum did. He must a bin a terr'ble farse, cross-grained, 
cruel, bloodthirsty old sarpent, as you'll see, Mr. Smith. 
Well, things went on so a week, or mebby eight days — by 
golly, I consated that black stump in that bush was a bear, 
the leaves was a kinder over it so ! — when Snoop-round, 
who'd bin a-sneakin' round and about all that time with two 
or three others jest as mean as he was, finally at last 
ketched Howl when he and the gal was a-walkin' and a- 
castin' sheep's eyes fust on one another and then on the 
moon, and a-goin' this way and that way, and a-mincin' 
and a-smilin', and he praps sayin' to Hopsy that she was 
a leetle the nicest gal in all c'ration, and she was a swallerin' 
it all whull, but holdin' her head down and pretendin' not 
to like it, but L-o-r-d bless yer, Mr. Smith, she did — all 
wimming doos. Well, they was a goin' over all that aire 
when little Snoopy pounced with the others that was as a 
body may say jest like two, and I dunno but three tin pans 
on one dog's tail, my Watch ef yer a mind ter, and I don't 
bleeve that four tin pans 'ud be more'n a flea-bite to him 
ef he was after a deer. How he would lickety-spang over 
the^ ruts and things, and how the pans 'ud fly, hey ! I 
remember one time I was on a runway and I could see up 
the side of a ridge as plain as the ruff of a house. Bimeby 
the deer come like old Sanko, and a leetle after 'im come 
Watch, and I tell yer, he went so fast 'twas as much as I 
could do to see 'im. Now, do you bleeve that five or even 



220 

six, and I dunno but I'll saj ten, I will say ten tin pans 'ud 
a stopped him ! By the 'tarnal Jehosiphat, 7io ! Watch 
is leetle the grittiest dog" 

" You had got as far as the courting in the story, Har- 
vey." 

'*0h — yes — yes — a — a — had I? let me see— what did 
happen then ! They courted so of en that I disremember 
the partic'lar p'int on't. That was the trouble twixt that 
Snoopy and — oh, I remember now ! Well, Snoop-round 
and his tin pans as 'twere, not as they was tin pans raally, 
but unly as you might tie one and mebby half-a-dozen to 
Watch " 

" So the Indian and his friends I suppose lay in wait, 
that is, lay in ambush for Howl and Hopsy " 

"That's it — jest it. Did I ever tell it to you afore? 
Ko ! well it's strannge you should a guessed so cluss. But, 
as I was sayin', Snoop-round and his tin pans, as I call 'em, 
tuk Howl (but he fit like a wounded bull-moose ; still it didn't 
do no good — how kin a body fight three to one ?) and 
he tuk Hopsy too, ' Aha !' says he (this is about the idee 
on't), 'What will yer poppy say to this. Miss Hopsy?' 
' Jest mind yer own business you great, big, mean feller 
you,' said Hopsy ('t all events that was the upshot on't), 
fur I tell ye, Mr. Smith, she was mad ; and I don't blame 
her a bit ; 'twas an orful mean trick in that Snoopy ; still 
what kin ye expect from sich kind o' chaps ! There-'s a 
feller now they call Catamount Pete ('caze he telled sich a 
rousin' lie one time about a catamount he bragged on he 
killed) ; he's aliout the meanest scamp when he gits riled 
agin a feller ! There's no let up to 'im, enny way. Well, 
the p'int on't was, they fetched 'im — I raaly consated I 
heerd a mink then, but I guess I didn't — they fetched 'im 
afore old Linkum. That aire Howl must a bin consid'ble 
of a young feller fur an Injin 't all events, fur when he 
come afore the old Boss, he kinder straightened himself up 
as ef he said, * What's the meanin' 'n all this ! Why hevent 
I as much right to spark a gal as enny body else?' But 



J 



221 

tlie old Boss spoke up so kinder quick he hadn't time to 
say nothin' much ennj way. ' Prepare to die I' sez the 
old critter. 'Prepare to die!' jest as quick, he kinder 
tumbled it out. ' W-a-a-1,' says Howl (this is the idee on't, 
Mr. Smith! I can't give ye the rael Injin touch — old 
Sabele did that, and he would wobble his arms and twist 
about, and roll his eyes, and look farse, and yell, he would, 
tellin' on't, tick'ally this part you could a heerd 'im a mile). 
Says Howl, ' Ef I must die, I must, but I want ter see Hopsy 
agin afore I do.' 

Didn't the old feller skip and jump ! I tell yer ! ' You 
shell see Hopsy,' sez he, ' and in a way you won't like to, 
no how. Here,' sez he to his folks round, ' you jest tie up 
this chap to the tree there, and you, Hopsy, you, come 
here !' Hopsy came up a-tremblin', and they tied the 
young feller to the tree, and here old Sabele used to spread 
himself. I remember a leetle on't. * Wind what Howls,' 
sez old Linkum, ' when Natur is all blossoms, but kinder 
dies away to a whisper, when the tornader's about' (meanin', 
Sabele said, that Howl was a tarnal great feller when 'twas 
all fair weather — a fair-weather Christian as 'twere — but 
was a kind o' sneak when enny misfortin' was about to 
happen), ' sing yer death-song with a loud voice ef you kin, 
which I don't bleeve ; fur why ? Linkum don't see a waryer 
tied up to that aire tree, but a woman,' and here old Sabele 
used to ketch his breath and his eye bulged out as big as, 
w-a-a-1 — as big as a twenty -five cent piece, ' and he shell 
die by the hand of a woman. Here, Hopsy,' said the old 
sarpent, ' take the hatchet and strike it inter the head of 
the coward !' 

" Hopsy she scrooched right down to her pa's feet (as I 
heerd a young lady tellin' another, one time, in my boat on 
the Lower S'nac. She was tellin' a story about a pa, as she 
said, comin' down on his darter's lovyer a good deal like this ; 
twas pa here and pa there — p-a-a she'd say ; I thought I'd 
hev to snicker right out), and she cries and she begs, but 
massy, Mr. Smith, twant no use ; Pop had made up his 



222 

mind, and that was the eend on't. Well, when Hopsy 
found all her snifilin' and carrjins-on didn't do no good, 
and that she'd got to take the hatchet en.ny way, she riz 
up, and finally at last she grabbed it. All this time Snoop- 
round was lookin' on and a-grinnin' and a-larfin' at the 
twist things had took. 'Twas rael nuts to him. Well, as 
I was say in', Hopsy, when she found she couldn't do no 
better, she grabbed the hatchet and she gin a screech and 
— ^I do wonder what all that snarlin' and spittin' means out 
there ! it sounds to me like a fisher in a trap — I'll go and 
see ! but I guess I wont — 'taint none o' my business. The 
fisher aint mine, an 'taint in season ef 'twas. I wonder 
a'most there should be enny trap there so airly ; but it may 
be an old one — and she gin a spring clearn up to where 
Snoop-round stood a-grinnin', his mouth stretched from ear 
to ear, and — shuck! didn't that aire hatchet go inter that aire 
skull o' his'n. It must a struck fire ! IVe no notion but 
'twas hard enough ; sich mean, ofF-ox folks's skulls aly's is. 
And didn't he yell ? He thro wed up his arms and fell jest 
like a log, and was dead in half a minute. And what d' 
yer spose come next ? Kin ye tell, Mr. Smith ? Kin ye 
guess ? Well, I'll tell ye. 'Twas the stranngest thing in 
the world. But Sabele telled me he'd swear to it on a 
stack o' Bibles, or that was the idee on't. Jest as Snoop- 
round gin his last gasp there was an orful skreekin' and 
howlin' in the bushes, and about twenty of the fightin' 
charackters of the Carry Tribe bust in, took Hopsy and the 
young feller — young Howl I mean — off, and what's more, 
they took the old Boss himself, fur a big part o' his fightin' 
charackters was away moose huntin' on Bog Eiver, where 
we're a-goin', though he bit and scratched and fit off jest 
like the very old Scratch. The way the Carry folks come 
to bust in was, that the old daddy on the Carry kinder got 
oneasy about his son stayin' away so long, and hustled 
'm off to see what the upshot was. Well, to make a long 
story short, the Carry daddy he made as ef he sot all the 
store in the world by the Injin Park daddy and old Link- 



223 

um, lie finally at last consated he couldn't do no better 
than to let Howl hev Hopsy, and so, as the old song says, 
they lived in peace and died in a pot o' grease ! And now 
s'pose'n we twist round these islands here twixt Mink Bay 
and Gull Pond Bay a leetle, afore we go to camp." 

We accordingly wound through the island channels, with 
the rich, birchy perfume of the woods extracted by the after- 
noon sun scenting the air, and with little suns and dancing 
meteors and steely sprinklings and broad dazzling lights 
on the water, until they gave place to the topaz and ruby 
of the sunset, and they in turn yielded to the sober tints of 
twilight. 

At last we laid our course for the camp. We found our 
comrades and the guides there ; a deer and " no end to the 
trout," testifying to the success of their day's sport. 



224 WOODS AND waters; 



CHAPTEK XYIII. 



The Sabbath.— Preaching at the Indian Park.— The Pool.— The Sky.— Poli- 
tics. — The Constitution. 



The next day was the Sabbath. The sky was robed in 
bright blue and gold, with an embroidery of pearl. The 
lake was breathless. Not a leaf fluttered in the forest. As 
I viewed the scene's repose, I thought how beautiful is 
the fancy that the day's sanctity in the Christian mind 
finds sympathy in the visible universe — that, at this time, 
Nature stills her throbbing pulses, the tree waves with more 
tranquil grace, the bird sings with softer tone, the water 
lapses in a calmer ripple. Poets, whose hearts are filled with 
love of Nature, have delighted so to depict this day, and the 
thought spreads tranquillity in turn over the heart. And 
thus does soul transfigure Nature, and Nature sanctify the 
soul. What images crowd the fancy, too, in gazing upon 
Nature's grandeur or beauty ! What serene joys of thought, 
what pure, sweet, lofty sentiments are her offspring ! 

All the beautiful mythology of the olden time is born 
of her. 

" The intolligible forms of ancient poets, 
The fair humanities of old religion, 
The Power, the Beauty, and the Majesty, 
That had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain, 
Or forest, by slow stream, or pebbly spring, 
Or chasms and watery depths 1" 

To the tree, did the antique fancy give the dryad ; and 
the naiad to the stream. On the cloudy peak, with its 
gleaming levin, it seated the thunder-bearing Zeus ; from 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 225 

the glancing light, it created the golden-sandalled Hermes ; 
and Aphrodite from the grace of the breaking wave. 

And though " Pan is dead" with the deifying faith that 
worshipped him, still fancy finds moral emblems in the 
various forms of Nature. In the rose's blush, we see love's 
own hue ; and purity in the whiteness of the lily. In the flow 
of the majestic river, we recognise strong resolve, calm in its 
very depth, and moving toward a determined end. In the 
bursting torrent we see impetuosity of spirit ; in the tangled 
glen, the heart dark with evil passions; and self-reliance 
looks calmly forth in the steadfast and towering mountain. 
Indeed, these myths of the old civilization typify each 
a sentiment or truth. May we not behold in Jason and 
the Golden Fleece, the type of a daring spirit in search of 
some rare secret of Nature, bearing from far and unknown 
coasts of speculation some sterling thought? Porphyrion, 
is he not the emblem of Will assaulting Fate, and recoiling 
from the rock of its immutability ? Prometheus, the symbol 
of a grand soul crucified on the bleak and barren crag of 
untoward circumstance, and while conscious of the sacred 
fires of genius and all-embracing love, feeling but the vul- 
ture of inexorable fate gnawing at his heart ? Ixion clasp- 
ing the cloud, is it not Ambition grasping worldly fame ? 
Sisyphus, Toil struggling upward, unrewarded, to die in 
despair at last ? 

About ten o'clock, Phin, who had rowed as far as the 
Indian Park, returned with the tidings that a travelling 
preacher, on his way down the Racket to Potsdam, intended 
to hold forth an hour hence. We all, accordingly, em- 
barked, and on reaching the Park, found two or three 
black-bearded woodmen from the vicinity, in red hunting- 
shirts and clean check collars, waiting for the promised 
service. The two boj:^tS; in which they had arrived were 
placed upon the bank, bottom upwards, under the birch 
tree, near th^e water's edge, and formed seats. 

Soon, other boats appeared gliding down the Racket, 
and one thorough the outlet, which I found afterward was 

10^ 



226 WOODS AND waters; 

from the head of the lake, eight miles distant. These were 
filled with men, women, and children, in their best and 
gayest attire. Together, we numbered some twenty -five or 
thirty. 

The scene from a mound, a little back in the Park, pre- 
sented a lively and beautiful picture. In the foreground 
was the meadow, deep in its wild grass, dappled with sun 
and shadow. Next was the spot of worship, the bank 
and boats chequered with the different dresses of the group. 
The middle distance gleamed with the silver lights and 
purple darks of the river, over to the sunny greens of its 
midchannel island and shores. A soaring background 
of downy tints, reared by Mount Morris, closed the 
picture. 

The preacher was a long, lank personage, with an apple 
of a head perched on a stick of a body. He stepped from 
the log hut to the front, and began the service, by reading 
a hymn with a nasal drawl, and stumbling over the longest 
words. 

An old fellow, with features buried in an ambush of 
wrinkles, then sounded the pitch ; joined in a keen falsetto 
by one whom I took to be his wife, an old lady whose sour 
face seemed sharpened on the grindstone of a rather quick 
temper, and who appeared to have run so pertinaciously 
afiier her work as to run all the flesh ofi" her bones. 

The first then opened upon the air in a thick bass, as 
though the rugged tones were too big for his throat, and 
as one of the guides said afterwards, " a-kinder scraped as 
they come up." 

The air was carried by the wife, whose shrill tones seemed 
momentarily threatening to sharpen into the termagant 
pitch of home. In fact, she appeared angry with the tune, 
from the beginning, and no wonder, for it crawled over the 
words like a mud -turtle over stones. 

The two had the air mainly to themselves, portions of 
the congregation occasionally breaking in with discordant 
blots of sound. All these gave up after a while, with the 



227 

exception of a wirj-looking chap, eager in his expression 
as though ready at any time to jump out of his skin, and a 
bouncing girl, whose dot of a nose perked up from between 
two red worsted cheeks; both of whom busily engaged 
themselves in snapping at the tune, without catching it, all 
the way through. Next them, however, stood a brawny, 
check-shirted fellow, smelling awfully of whiskey, who, 
with a pertinacity worthy to behold, clung to his singing, 
evidently without knowing the tune, and belched out his 
muddled tones in the loudest manner, carrying havoc as he 
went. 

The performers had opened their lips for the seventh 
verse (three more to come), when the preacher (or " Dea- 
con"), probably and naturally supposing the tune bid fair 
to last the time of service out, broke in upon it with the 
invitation to prayer, leaving the singers to close their 
mouths as quick as they could over their half-strangled 
notes. 

The prayer was a compound of fierce joy at the certainty 
of so great a portion of the human race being doomed to 
destruction, with the exception of " the elect," and a self- 
hugging complacency that the said elect, of which he plainly 
intimated he was one, were to be the inheritors of so certain 
a happiness. 

At the conclusion of the prayer, he gave out another 
hymn, and as if he wished to be spared the excruciation 
of the former music, opened on a tune himself with great 
power, if little melody, elevating his chin at the high notes, 
and dipping it into the pool of his loose white cravat at the 
lower, like a duck drinking. 

He was alone in his music, the old couple probably not 
knowing the air, and the rest restrained by respect from 
trying, as at first, to catch it on the wing. 

The sermon was a repetition of the ideas in the prayer, 
spread thin, the worthy plainly considering himself on the 
most intimate terms with the Peity, and dealing out life and 
death with the air of a principal. 



228 

At the conclusion of the service, the motley company de- 
parted, the Deacon drawing paddle down the Eacket, toward 
his destination, with a companion at the oars, while we re- 
turned to camp. 

After dinner, I rowed myself in the afternoon glow to a 
point on Birch Island, just below the Devil's Pulpit, to 
enjoy the seclusion and quiet. 

I fastened my boat to a log, and in the idleness of the 
moment noted the slight effects around me. By the water's 
edge was a pile of rocks shaped like a cromlech, and near it 
an oak with a crescent of light clipping its shadowed stem, 
like the golden knife of a Druid severing the sacred mis- 
tletoe for the rites of his ancient and mysterious faith. 

In the forest there was a flitting of light and shade, and 
a tremble of branches in the low wind, with an occasional 
glance of a bird through the fretted vaults. 

A pool lay near, sheltered by a stooping birch, and a 
small rapid. 

In its airlike depth was a trout, moving around restlessly, 
scenting a lily stem ; pondering over a mossy rock ; dart- 
ing toward the surface ; steadying himself by the occasional 
flutter of his fins ; staring with huge eyes all about ; wav- 
ing his tail, like a deer grazing, and working his mouth 
as if chewing a cud. By and bye, a miller came close to 
the glass of the surface, quivering with admiration at the 
image of his silver coat. His spasm of self-love was short, 
for the trout, lurking in the ambush of a stone, like a 
bandit in his cave, darted forth, gave a nip, and the luck- 
less miller vanished. 

Then came a shiner that sent a silver flash through all 
the pool. Now he poised himself, head downward, as if to 
lunge through the ooze ; then stood on his tail and gaped. 
At last, he turned himself into a wheel and gyrated away. 
He was succeeded by a gleam of gold, cast by a sunfish, 
that flattened himself on his side, and lay there, until a 
bullhead blundered along, and turned one of his horns on 
him, when the sunfish whisked himself away. 



229 

At this juncture there was a plump, and then a sudden 
darkening of the crystal inclosure, through which I saw the 
dim shape of a muskrat, who scampered across the bottom, 
and then rose by a sedge on a dot of grass, with its flag half- 
way up its staff. 

First, his ratship pulled the stem of a yellow lily as if to 
ring the bell ; then he nibbled the gold of the blossom ; 
then he skimmed to the edge of the bank, with two furrows 
like a wedge pencilled from his shoulders, and cut with his 
needle teeth the barb of an arrowhead, and towed it in his 
mouth to his burrow, where he vanished. In a moment, 
however, his blunt, whiskered face and glittering specks 
of eyes were thrust forth again in my direction, thinking, I 
suppose, what a queer thing that log was, when an invo- 
luntary motion on my part caused him to disappear in the 
winking of an eye. 

I then leaned back at the boat's stern, and gazed into the 
noontide heavens. As I viewed the overwhelming arch, 
springing so magnificently from the horizon, robed in an 
azure so rich and tender, and gleaming with its silver clouds, 
I thought how little appreciated, comparatively, is this 
most wonderful, beautiful, and majestic of all the Creator's 
handiwork. 

The brightest and loveliest hues dwell within its con- 
cave, as do the blackest and most threatening. There 
beams the rainbow, born of gold and precious gems ; and 
there glares the lightning from the scowling cloud. There 
fans the breeze on downy pinion, and there whirls the 
dread tornado. Within it, echo the sweetest sounds as well 
as the most awful. There the lark warbles to the ear of 
the morning, and there the thunder hurls its crashing ter- 
rors. We talk of the vastness of ocean, the desert, the 
forest, the prairie ; but what is the horizon presented by 
each to the mighty sweep of that canopy we have but to 
raise our eyes at any moment to behold ? There it arches, 
ever present, whether blinded with its grey, rainy mantle, 
rolling in cloudy surges, smiling in blue loveliness, or 



230 

kindled by the sunset and the dawn. There in the highest 
degree is the sublimity of magnitude and the beauty of 
softness. And not only are the tenderest and most delicate 
objects, the transparent film, the twining mist, the spangling 
snow and the curling cloud, found there, but it is the 
home of the glorious sun, his gentle sister of the silver 
brow, and the far-away constellations. And what sway it 
holds over us ! Be it sombre, we grow mournful ; be it 
bright, our heart leaps up " and is glad." 

We look upward when in sorrow ; into the sky have 
departed the loved and lost ; there prayer is wafted ; 
there soars the released spirit ; there dwells God. 

We fall into raptures beneath the dome of St. Peter's, 
at the beauty, the grandeur there seen; we revel in its 
streaming sunlights ; we bend to the almost crushing sense 
of its immensity ; and yet we never fasten an eye for one 
half hour on the sky's dome, its loveliness, its majesty, its 
illuminated glories, its boundless sweep. All, too, to be 
had in a moment, without crossing stormy wave or moun- 
tain peak ; all its beautiful and stately changes, its glory 
of rising and of setting tints. If by some magic the sky 
could be shut off, and then be opened upon us for a price, 
we would make the welkin ring with voice of admiration 
and wonder. 

We gaze at the summer ocean in its heaving slumber I 
What is its smoothness and quiet to the boundless expanse 
above, with the cloud-sails gliding over, and the fairy 
barks at anchor ? View this same ocean in a storm, 
with its watery cliffs and chasms, and dashing its fierce 
foam in the black brow of the tempest ; the sight is not 
grander or more fearful than a sky of battling thunder- 
storms. Its roar ; why, the crashing bolt, the unchained 
blast, the trampling hailstones, roll out sounds more dread 
and wrathful ! 

We thrill with the sublimity of Mont Blanc and Chim- 
borazo, the grand range of Alp and Himmalaya — mighty 
crags, clutching the upper air with icy fingers ; but behold 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 231 

the cloud-ridges, pile upon pile, lowering in a mighty 
frown over one half the heavens, and plunging leagues 
on leagues of earth in shadow ! "We bow before the 
grandeur of Niagara, where seas plunge upon the globe's 
heart in reverberating thunders ; but glance merely at some 
cataract of stormy vapor dashing down tbe sky-slope ! 
Niagara, to it, is a mere cascade ! 

We linger days on the beamy lights, the velvet shades 
of the old masters : of Domenichino, of Cimabue, of Gior- 
gione, of Titian, of Tintoretto and Claude, whose names 
glitter with the magic tints of Italy, and ring with the 
golden richness of her music. The colors born of that one 
painter, the atmosphere, flash disdain upon the tame bla- 
zonry of their mimic hues. Even the divine frescoes of 
Raphael must yield to the common tints of dawn and 
twilight. And the architecture of Angelo, of Brunelleschi 
and Giotto — they have cast a spell to which Time is power- 
less ; but look upward, in your walk, or from your desk, 
your study, your plough, even while your hands are busy, 
and there is architecture, with pillars and arches and colon- 
nades and towers, not tiring the eye in their sameness, but 
changing even as you look, resting on foundations of living 
sapphire, and flushed with flitting tints that transcend even 
the divinest dreams of those mighty masters, the "great 
heirs of Time." 

Returning to the camp, I found my comrades darting 
furious gestures through a cloud of words, amid which 
flitted the cant political expressions of the day, with the 
word " Constitution'' particularly conspicuous. 

Politics, next to business, occupy us Americans almost 
exclusively. We elevate, consequently, our political leaders 
into national idols. The press supplies the pedestal on 
which they are reared to the altitude of giants. We abuse 
them, it is true, but upon the principle of the Chinese, who, 
though they cuff" their josses, never cease to regard them 
as gods. 

Thus we ascribe to these political heroes of ours all 



232 WOODS AND waters; 

kinds of qualities not their own, and crown them with our 
honors, as barbarous nations stud storks and ostriches with 
jewels, and then bow to them in worship. 

I had been so frequently worried by this political talk 
of my comrades, that I hastened to bury myself from the 
din in the tent of the guides. Outside I found them col- 
lected, listening with great attention, and, as the talkers 
probably supposed, with a due impression of their superior 
wisdom. 

I might have supposed so too, had I not, an hour after- 
ward, heard one of them say to another, and, in my 
opinion, summing the whole matter up most sensibly : 

" The gen'lemen set a good deal of store by the cons'too- 
tion, but for my part, I think it's the best plan fur each one 
to take keer of the cons'tootion what b'longs to 'im. It's 
more'n most on us kin do, with all our lookin' out. I say, 
let all this talk about presarvin' the cons'tootion, and 
standin' by the cons'tootion, jest go to the dogs, and we'll 
go to snoozin', that is, as sun as we take a drink round — 
b'ys, what say ye ?" 



233 



CHAPTER XIX. 

Sail up Tapper's Lake. — Jenkins' Clearing. — The Shanty of the Spring. — 
Bog River Falls. — Head of the Lake. — Up Bog River. — Leo. — Track of 
the Moose. — Roar of the Moose. — Mud Lake. — Death of the Moose. 

Monday I had fixed upon for my excursion up Bog 
River to Mud Lake, in search of moose. 

This river is composed of two branches; runs, after 
their union, northerly, a couple of rods wide, and tumbles 
into Tupper's Lake at its southern extremity or head, by a 
winding, foaming cascade over two rocky terraces, about 
thirty feet in height. 

The branches unite two miles from the lake, and west- 
erly up the northern branch fourteen miles lies the lake 
to which I was bound. 

Understanding the trip was difficult, I engaged Phin to 
accompany Harvey as an assistant. We were to be gone 
two days. Meanwhile, my comrades were to continue the 
camp at Tupper's Lake, or, if they moved, were to leave 
word on bark or paper, woods-fashion, as to their where- 
abouts. 

The morning was passed in preparation. 

Deep in the afternoon we left Camp Cedar (so christened 
by Renning), in the Bluebird, with Phin at the oars ; I, upon 
my folded blanket, in the middle, with a back-board ; Har- 
vey at the stern, with his paddle ; and Watch curled up at 
the bow. 

The lake was all blue and silver, with scarce air enough 
to bend the streak from Harvey's pipe. 

Onward we went, the opening vistas and changing shores 
offering continually new water-scenes. 



234 

Leaving the Devil's Pulpit at our back, we glided 
along the mile's length of Long Island, and turned, oppo- 
site its head, and a small rocky point of the shore, into 
the south limb of the lake. 

" Bog River Falls I" exclaimed Harvey, pointing to what 
appeared a sloping plate of pearl amid the rounded shores 
at the head of the lake, three miles distant. " About a 
mile furder you'll hear the roar. In the spring, when 
there's high water, the falls gits up consid'ble young 
thunder. The foam splashes over ugly. I've seen mighty 
big trees dashin' and quirlin' and crashin' over the rocks, 
as though lightnin' 'ad sent 'em ; and then a deer 'ud come 
rollin' and strugglin', and be pitched down'ards, like a 
duck's feather in a ripple. The deer 'ud be dead enough, 
though, when it got to the bottom." 

Large masses of light and shade, cast by the shores and 
islands in the low sun, lay along the water. Beautiful little 
sunset pictures gleamed out as we went ; a mossy rock ; a 
tiny dingle ; a brook rapid ; a colonnade of trees ; an arbor 
of linked branches ; a pool under a bank, like a peeping eye ; 
a half-whelmed trunk, with water sparkling round it ; an 
islet of watergrass; or a bit of marsh, where tiger-lilies 
curled their spotted pennons among the spears of the rushes. 

Opposite the two Norway Islands (on the lower of which 
the tall, slender Korway pine was thinly towering), as well as 
a little above the upper, we cast successfully at the mouths 
of three trout brooks that crept into coves upon the east 
side. We then crossed the lake, passing a small island like 
a leafy dome, and entered a beautiful bay, at the head of 
which, in a small clearing, stood a log-hut, with several out- 
houses. On the left a wild mountain frowned against the 
sunset sky. 

" Jenkins, who has the choppin' up there, is the unly one 
who lives on the lake," said Harvey. 

" How near, or rather how far off are his neighbors ?" 
asked I. (A neighbor in wood parlance is any one within 
fifty miles.) 



235 

^* On along the Racket they're rather nigh," answered 
Harvey, as we continued up towards the next point, " that 
is about eight or nine miles off. But up over that way," 
pointing to the mountain, *' on to Potsdam about forty 
miles, I guess 'twould be puzzlin' to find as many as ye 
could count up on one hand." 

" Isn't that rather solitary for him, Harvey ?" 

"What?" 

"Solitary, lonely!" 

" Oh, lonesome ! Why bless ye, no ! In his boat, with 
enny kind o' rowin', 'twill take 'im unly about two hours 
to go to the Racket, where there's lots o' people. There's 
some five or six fam'lies stringin' along mebby ten or 
twelve miles. I call it rather crowded, that is, ef a man 
raally takes to the woods. Now I don't live in the woods 
't all. There's a big settlement round me, some five or six 
housen that I kin count up right ofi*. Fust " (counting on 
his fingers) " there's the school-house ; then there's a barn : 
then father's in the holler ; then there's a brother o' mine 
furder on ; then Cort's at the S'nac Pond ; then there's Col 
Baker's, and Miller his son-in-law; and as fur Harriets 
town, there's a settlement there sartenly of a dozen housen 
without reckonin' the sawmill. It's a durned sight too 
thick fur me round. But I've of 'en wondered how you 
folks git along in the city. I should raally s'pose you'd 
git kinder tangled up 'mong so many people there. Ef I 
lived there I'd hardly know my legs from another man's 
without chalkin' on 'm. But what d'ye say fur campin' ? 
There's a fust best place inside this p'int." 

We accordingly landed at the spot indicated, a dry smooth 
knoll, where we found a large bark shanty, with the front 
open to the lake. In a little hollow adjoining was a spring, 
about six feet in diameter, boiling clear as dew and cold as 
snow from a deep floor of pearly sand. 

We landed, put our " traps " in the shanty, kindled our 
camp-fire to repel the charges of a fierce corps of musqui- 
toes, and cut our hemlock mattresses for the night. 



236 WOODS AND waters; 

It was now just after tlie sunsetting. A blush was painted 
on the lake, below a streak of golden purple with a white 
star trembling at its edge. 

Beyond, the dome-island (which Harvey called Deer 
Island) seemed moored in mid-air, while the background 
of the sky was filled with the mass of Mount Morris. 

At the right, or south of the latter, frowning over Bog 
Kiver, a little above the falls that I could see sparkling 
down the bank, were two mountain tops, which I christ- 
ened the Hawksnest and the Panther, the former from its 
hollowed outline, and the latter from a fancied resemblance 
to the head of the animal named. 

Everywhere around the water, and upon the islands 
(except the clearing of Jenkins) swept the woods, darkening 
now in the twilight. 

Merry was our meal in the eye of the star, and we fell 
asleep with the camp-fire drenching our shanty in pleasant 
light. 

The dawn's first grey was tinging the darkness as I 
awoke at Harvey's summons for our start. , 

The lake showed its broad neutral tint in the front, with 
the dim shores on either hand, and the islands beyond 
swollen against a black background. 

The east momentarily warmed, while in the strengthen- 
ing grey of the zenith the stars were melting like sparks in 
ashes. 

After breakfast we pushed out in the fresh, cool (almost 
chilly) air, diagonally toward the falls, whose voice was 
loud in the stillness. 

We ran up to the rocks, where the cascade, dashing and 
twisting in severed channels between log, thicket and rock, 
rushed in a broad mass of foam down a sloping ledge into 
the lake, pushing its dancing waters far beyond. At its 
spinning foot we threw our lines and soon secured a goodly 
number of fine trout. 

Harvey and Phin then clambered with the boat and 
" traps " up the steep bank of the carry around the falls. I 



OR, THE SAIIANACS AND RACKET. 287 

lingered behind to gaze once more down the broad vista of 
the lake, with its jutting points and the dome-island in 
the distance, until the view was closed by the high back- 
ground of Long Island. At the right heaved up the broad 
blue breast of Mount Morris, which, owing to the angular 
form of the lake, is equally conspicuous at its foot as at its 
head. 

After I had stamped on my memory this enchanting water- 
view, I followed my guides, turning aside as I went up to 
glance at the dark log- fragments of the old military road 
laid through the wilderness, from the Mohawk valley to 
the St. Lawrence, in the war of 1812. 

Blotting the gre}^ engravings on the surface, up Bog 
Eiver we swiftly glided. 

The grey light gave place to the soft glow preceding the 
sunrise. Eosy clouds smiled overhead, and in the east the 
umber of a long cloud burned into tawny gold. 

Suddenly a high pine brightened and stood transfigured. 

Even so, thought I, is woman glorified by the divine 
fancy of poets. She owes the recognition of her charms to 
those children of the passionate heart and glowing brain. 
They kindle the aureole that crowns her brow. 

" Apollo was pitching his darts " 

thick and fast into the trees, which flashed gold at every 
blow, as we reached the fork of the river. Up the right, 
or westerly branch (as before noted), lay our path with an 
immediate carry. 

I asked Harvey whither led the other "branch. 

" To Little Tupper's Lake, six miles," answered the old 
woodman, as he and Phin prepared to shoulder the boat 
with its luggage, " and the nicest lookin' lake, next to Big 
Tupper's, and al'ys exceptin' the Upper S'nac, that there is 
about here. There's three carries two miles in all, to git 
there." 

" Where then do you go ?" 



238 

"A carry of about thirty rod '11 bring ye from there i 
inter Kock Pond, about two miles long. Then a carry of ' 
two miles takes ye inter Bottle Pond, one mile long. A 
carry then of about sixty rods brings ye inter Carey 
Pond, half a mile long. Then a carry of eighty rod 'Hi 
take ye to Sutton Pond, a mile long. Then a carry of 
half a mile brings je to Little Forked Lake, two or tBree 
miles long. You then run up inter Big Forked Lake, 
eight miles long, and then a carry of half a mile brings 
ye inter Packet Lake, and crossing it you git by a carry of 
a mile inter the Eight Lakes, and down them inter the 
middle branch o' Moose Kiver, clearn down inter John 
Brown's Tract. Or you kin turn down Big Forked Lake 
inter Long Lake, and so inter the Racket River and come 
to this very spot agin, and, except at Racket Falls, and them 
below, not stir out of yer boat, makin' a rael twist-round." 

A mile's tramp brought us again to the stream, and after 
another mile we reached the third carry a score of rods 
across. An equal number on the stream bore us to " Wind- 
ing Falls," forcing us to the fourth carry. The fifth lay a 
half mile farther, and after three more portages respec- 
tively of forty, thirty, and eighty rods, we entered a pond. 

"The Lower Pond," said Harvey, "and after a good 
dry carry on t'other side, and the last one too, we hev four 
more ponds to cross and we're at Mud Lake." 

Crossing, we struck the carry, which was about fifty rods 
over, and entered the river again, ascending it half a mile 
to a small winding lily-pad pond. Three miles more of 
river brought us to the third pond of the same size as the 
first or " Lower," with high banks, and crossing it the river 
again received us. 

All along we had found the same scenery ; close ranks of 
firs and cedars on either side, throwing their sharpened sha- 
dows across so that we seemed floating over their transverse 
tops ; and green openings, with a rear wall of forest. The 
trees above named, however, bristling in masses, or scattered 
in the parks, formed the prevailing feature of this grim and 



239 

sluggish, or dashing and foaming river, yielding it its lonely 
and funereal aspect. In every direction, also, dead pines 
and hemlocks thrust up their pallid, rough raggedness, 
dripping with grey moss, and frequently clutching in their 
raised talons the huge nest of the fish-hawk. 

Suddenly around one of the bends, an Indian in his 
canoe came rapidly towards us. He was on his knees 
paddling in the middle of his craft, which was of birch 
bark, expanded at the sides, with ends sharp and rising 
like a crescent. 

"Why, here's old Leo, agin I" exclaimed Harvey. "Why 
Leo, is that you ? Where on airth you come from, eh ?" 

" Conutie, dat ees, up dere, over dere — Ookostah Conu- 
tie, vat you call eet — Ingleese?" said the Indian, ceasing 
to paddle, and allowing his bubble to float up. 

" Cost her, what!" asked Harvey. 

" Taun — nah — nah! Ookostah Conutie, vere nindunhe — 
dat ees — vere moose go, down dere, up dere, over dere — 
fool of — uh — uh — what dis!" dipping at a lily -pad, but 
missing it, and bringing his paddle up dripping. 

"Water!" said Harvey. 

" Nah, nah !" shaking his head impatiently, " nah, nah, 
oh hang, nah !" 

" I don't know no other name but water for't. Consarn 
his old picter!" 

" Nah, nah — vater not a beet — dis, dis," tearing up a 
lily-leaf this time with his paddle. 

" Oh, you mean lily-pad ! Why couldn't ye say so at 
onst ! Plague take the old feller ! Forty I'yers couldn't 
understand him. Well, what of the lily-pads? You've 
been up in 'm, eh !" 

" Yese, yese, up dere — over dere, vere moose go." 

" You mean Mud Lake, I guess." 

" Nyuh ! yese, yese ! Muddee Lake, oh yese ! No see 
no moose. Up dere squaut (holding up one finger after 
another), ticknee, shagh" 

" Sha, sure enough ! What do you mean, Leo ?" 



240 

" Mean, mean, what dat?" 

" How many days were ye up there?" 

" Squaut, ticknee" 

" Don't understand, Leo !" 

" No onderstand ! what fur no understand ?" 

" 'Case I don't," sharply, " what d'ye mean by squat?" 

" So mannee," holding up a finger. 

" So many, what?" 

" So mannee what ! — nah — nah — nah— so mannee day — 
squaut, ticknee, shagh day" (raising three fingers). 

" Oh, three days !" 

" Yese, yese, tree day —oh hang !" 

"What shoot there?" 

" Yat shoot dere ? Shoot naagah ; dat ees, vat you call 
eet? — o-h yese, plantee, plantee!" 

" Nagur, nagur ! nigger, you mean. I shouldn't s'pose 
you'd a shot niggers there. There aint none, nur white 
people nuther, far that matter." 

" Neeger, neeger ! vat dat ?" 

"Why niggers, black niggers! people what's black! 
Bless the Injin, can't he onderstand nothin'?" 

" Neegers — black — dat ees jenshtau — nah, nah, n-a-h — 
oh hang !" 

"Well, what is't then?' 

" Go so, go so !" motioning with arms and body, as if 
bounding along. " Head so," pointing his hands either 
side. 

" 0-o-o-h ! you mean deer." 

" Oh hang, yese — deer, deer — oh yese, plantee, plantee!" 
throwing off a blanket, and showing a large pile of dried 
venison. 

" Good Leo, you've done well. But d'ye raally say you 
didn't see no moose ?" 

" Moose ! oh hang ! nah, nah, vat you tink ; you git 
moose ! nah, nah I" shaking his head violently, " you, nah, 
git moose nudder. I git nah moose, you git nah moose — • 
oh hang, nah, nah !" 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 241 

"Well, I dunno as we shell. "We'll try hard for't, though. 
But we're summat in a hurry, so good bye, Leo !" 

" Goo bye !" and off the canoe shot to the Indian's quick 
dexterous paddle, and in a moment he was hidden behind 
a turn. 

"Ahead is the last pond," said Harvey, " and then comes 
the river agin, and the confoundedest, crookedest consarn 
'tis too, that I've seen in these woods, not even leavin' out 
Folingsby's Brook, and Little Wolf Brook, and to go 
twistin' through the last makes the boat wriggle like an 
eel!" 

We landed at the entrance of the pond for a lunch. In 
a few moments my guides had lighted a fire, over which 
the trout we had taken at the falls were soon hissing, im- 
paled on the forked sticks. 

The sky, notwithstanding the brightness of the morning, 
was now overcast, and threatening rain. 

Against this lowering background rose, here and there, 
a tall withered pine above the general foliage, in one of 
which was an eagle's nest^ like a Doric column with its 
capital. 

We had just finished our meal, and Harvey was flow- 
ing out in a story about " Wrastlin' Will, who lived nigh 
the Ausable Forks," when suddenly he stopped. 

" Look there, Mr. Smith," said he, " aint that moosey 
lookin'?" 

I glanced around, but saw nothing. 

" Here, Mr. Smith," turning aside a leaf of brake. There, 
was a track stamped in the black ooze of the bank, much 
larger and more rounded than a deer's, nevertheless long 
and somewhat pointed. 

" Is that a moose- track, Harvey ?" 

" 'Taint nothin' else, and not an hour old, nuther," an- 
swered he. 

" I'm in fur that moose," said Phin, starting from a log 
where he had been seated with his rifle between his knees, 
and moving rapidly toward a thicket. " That's the dod 

11 



242 

blamedst big moose what's a goin', and I'm after 'im enny 
way." 

" Stop, Phin," said his father, '' the moose aint behind 
that aire bush, no how. Don't you see the track's p'inted 
torts the water. See there where he's fed," glancing to- 
wards the lily-pads, all torn and tilted, near the margin. 
" Let's be goin' though ; moose don't stay long in one place, 
and we may git a shot afore we know't." 

Closely examining the wooded hills, we crossed the 
pond, and once more entered the river. 

It was, indeed, a watery cork-screw, narrow, with broad, 
grassy intervals. 

We had wound through about two miles, and Harvey 
was again in the midst of a story about a " black fox he'd 
shot at Loon Lake onst," when he suddenly exclaimed, 
" Hark!" at the same time stopping his paddle and raising 
his hand, while Phin rested on his oars, and erected his 
head like a listening hound. 

After a silence of several moments, I was about to 
inquire what was the matter, when there came a distant 
bellow, sharp, ringing, and, notwithstanding the distance, 
startling. 

" It's from Mud Lake, sarten," said Harvey, dipping his 
paddle deep, while Phin did the same with his oars. 
" That's moose all over, and a rael bull-moose, too. Hoo- 
ray ! won't we hev some fun bimeby ! and it's 

" ' Too-rool-loo-rool, loo-rool-loddy I' 

Let's make the Bluebird sing through the water, Phin. I 
raally feel as ef we're goin' to hev a moose's lip fur supper 
to-night— hey, Mr. Smith ?" 

I answered cheerfully, and then resigned myself to my 
thoughts. There was something solemn and exciting in 
thus winding through the innermost heart of this immense 
wilderness, with the stern voice of the rare animal in whose 
search we had come still ringing in my ears. The wild, 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 243 

dark stream, the awful solitude — all rendered the scene 
deeply inthralling. 

Proceeding some distance, we now reached a pavement 
of lily-pads, extending from bank to bank. Pushing 
through these, a gloomy sheet of water at length spread 
before us. 

" Mud Lake," said Harvey, in a low voice. " Don't 
make no noise ! Praps a moose may be right agin us — 
who knows!" 

I didn't, and kept perfectly quiet, gazing at the scene. 

The sheet appeared to be about two miles long, by a 
mile in width, with low shores of broad marsh, closed in 
by a thick barrier of firs and spruces. At the left, as we 
entered, was a high point or bluff, forming a small bay. 

Lily-pads covered the lake, except toward the head, 
where was a space of dark water. 

Over the whole brooded an air of utter loneliness, which, 
aided by the dull, heavy sky, rested with a depressing 
weight upon my spirits. 

" 'Tis a lonesome kind o' place, as I telled ye I" said 
Harvey, in a whisper, ceasing to paddle, as did Phin to 
row, " that is, as fur as menkind goes, but not deer," point- 
ing to where the broad margin was cut up by the sharp, 
delicate feet of these creatures. " And yes, by golly, see 
there I there's a dozen tracks or more of moose. It's goin' 
to be a good night for floatin'. But come, Phin, make a 
smudge while I git out some sticks fur a fire, or Mr. Smith 
'11 be eat up sun with the flies ; and after that we'll bush 
up a shanty, fur it may rain in the night." 

The smudge was indeed grateful, for every inch of my 
fh,ce and hands seemed to hold a musquito and a midge 
added. But I comforted myself philosophically with the 
reflection, while I was thus being set on fire by the infernal 
insects, that the terrible black fly, which draws blood with 
every sting, was not also marauding. The golden days of 
June are dimmed by his horrors, but the sun of mid-July 
gives him his general quietus, although he does not entirely 



244 WOODS AND waters; 

disappear until the other little winged pests of the forest 
vanish. 

" I've met with 'm," said Harvey, in answer to my ques- 
tion, " all 'long till cold weather, with the other flies." 

" Where on earth do they come from, Harvey?" I asked, 
pantomiming wildly in the air. 

" The black flies hatches in rapids and swift water, and 
also in yaller lily blossoms ; the mitchets in fir and spruce 
trees, and the musquiters in swamps. But the Old Sanko 
unly knows what the critters hatch at all fur ;" and Harvey 
commenced, with Phin, making the camp. 

I sat on an old stump and watched the two. A few 
hacks of Harvey's axe brought down a maple, from which 
he detached the limbs. He then divided the trunk into 
suitable logs, splitting them for the camp-fire, which, with 
the aid of dry sticks strewed around, was soon merrily 
blazing. Meanwhile, Phin had levelled a small hemlock, 
and stripped its branches, from which he cut with his 
wood-knife the fringes for our beds. While one then 
planted in front of a smooth-faced rock two crotched poles, 
with a cross-stick, the other girdled a couple of spruces, 
and by inserting his axe, stripped lengths of the bark for 
the sides and roof. In a brief time the shanty was com- 
pleted. 

" Qui-r-r-r-r-r-r!" said Harvey, lighting his pipe by the 
camp-fire, after he and Phin had removed the blankets and 
other needful articles from the boat to the shanty, and seat- 
ing himself to prepare the jack, '' how them tree-toads 
squawk ! They're queer things, Mr. Smith. You can't 
tell, half the time, where the noise they make comes from. 
You may be lookin' right at the critters, that is, ef you 
look sharp, fur it's unpos'ble a'most to see 'm ; and there's 
another thing ; they look jest like a big wart on a limb, or 
a spot o' moss or a knob on the bark, as much as one wild 
pigeon's like another. But as I was say in', ef so be you 
look right at 'm, the squirkin' they make don't seem to 
come from them, but some other place." 



245 

The air rang with the hollow notes the little minstrels 
piped, while the deep gulp, or rather smothered roar, of a 
bull-frog now and then sounded, which seemed to jar the 
log it came from. 

All was now ready for our night-hunt after the moose 
hoped for, notwithstanding honest Leo's disappointment, 
and we embarked. 

The jack, in the intense, quiet darkness, shed a bright 
light on all objects within its range. 

Phin managed the paddle with the same noiseless skill I 
had so often admired, while Harvey sat under the jack, in 
an attitude of intense watchfulness, with his double-bar- 
relled rifle on his knees. Watch, to prevent mistakes, had 
been chained to a post of the shanty. 

On the little Bluebird stole, close to the shore. 

Once or twice Harvey lifted a warning hand, or motioned, 
but, after a moment's gazing, or bend of his ear aside, he 
relapsed again into his passive attitude. 

" I'll tell ye what 'tis, Mr. Smith !" at last he said, but in 
a low whisper, " old Leo I bleeve has skeered all the moose 
off, and deer too. We've bin 'most half round the lake, 
and here's the clear part o' the water, and nothin' seen or 
heerd. But we may hev luck yet, after gittin' past this 
bank. A leetle clusser to the edge, Phin I" 

We passed through the clear space, struck the pads again, 
and went rustling on. 

Opposite, I saw the camp-fire like a red speck on the 
blackness, but it was soon lost. 

We had now reached the inner side of the point or bluff, 
near our starting point. Suddenly we heard a paddling in 
the water. Harvey thrust his head forward ; a quick deep 
snort sounded ; he motioned to the right, then to the left, 
the boat obeying closely ; then came the click of the gun- 
locks. 

At the same time I saw two large orbs of pallid flame, 
and the darkness gathered around them into a mass which 
rose higher and higher, and loomed nearer, till a huge black 



246 WOODS AND WATERS, 

hulk stood before the jack, and hanging over it a large 
head, with blazing eyeballs, surmounted by what appeared 
to be an enormous half circle. 

Harvey gave a quick backward gesture, the boat drew 
to the rear about a rod, and then two sharp reports rang, 
so close together as to be nearly blended. A violent splash- 
ing followed, with several terrific snorts, and thick, heavy 
blows of breath, and I heard Harvey exclaim, 

" He's got it, he's down ! that's a dead moose ! up with 
the boat, Phin," whipping out his wood-knife, " but slow, 
slow ; they're an awful critter if they're unly wounded. I 
rather hev an idee, though, he's got enough on't." 

The boat glided cautiously up, the mass did not stir, and 
Harvey, bending low, made a quick motion with his knife. 

" Dead as a footed fisher," said Harvey, with an exultant 
laugh, " and his throat cut to boot. Now fur gittin' 'im 
round the p'int to the shanty. He's a big critter, and aint 
to be handled like a mushrat, but I guess we kin with hard 
strainin'. This is great luck, Mr. Smith ! It '11 be hang 
with old Leo all the time when he hears on't. 

" We wont dress 'im till mornin', Phin," continued he, as 
we landed the carcass, " and as this luck's rael old hunderd 
s'posen we take a drink all round. What d'ye say, Mr. 
Smith ? Come, Watch, stop yer yelpin' and whinin'. You 
seem to be mighty farse to git at a dead moose, pup, but be 
still, or I'll make yer yell fur suthin', and it's 

' Lighted with canneon the wilderness blazed.' 

My 'specks to ye, Mr. Smith !" 

The savage lake ; the bark shanty ; the blazing camp-fire, 
the black forest, all presented an impressive picture. Height- 
ening it was the mass near me ; that of an animal uncom- 
mon even in this wild region, its existence scarce believed 
in by the denizens of our cities, and fast disappearing 
from these dark haunts, to live but in the traditions of the 
hunter's fireside. My two guides also had their place in 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 247 

mj solitary musing. Seated in careless attitudes by the 
camp-lire, the flame tinging their bronzed features and rude 
garb, they represented a class indigenous to the region. 
With eye, ear, every sense sharpened to intensity, full 
of forest resources, self-reliant and brave, they seemed a por- 
tion of the forest, like the deer and the panther. 

Again I asked myself if man is happier for all his cul- 
ture and refinement ! living a life whose air is thick with 
human sighs, and whose path is thronged with weary foot- 
steps. And yet in all this misery, may there not be design ? 
May not the All- Wise Father be leading man through 
purifying trial to the height predestined ere the fall ? Pro- 
gression is His law. The bud becomes a flower, the chry- 
salis a butterfly, " this mortal puts on immortality." I 
cling to the hope that humanity, with all its burden of woe, 
is moving in the right direction ; falling back here, but 
advancing there ; the long line reeling and plunging along 
but onward, till in the future ages it may struggle up into 
the unclouded sunlight of Truth. Oh blessed Millennium ! 
dream and hope of Prophet and Apostle! when will your 
splendors dawn ! when will the earthly happiness man 
sighs and toils for, descend upon the earth ! 

The falling asunder of a log in the camp-fire woke me 
from my reverie. The wind had risen and was moaning in 
the forest like the wail of a broken heart, and rain was 
beginning to fall like tears. I retreated into the shanty, 
whither my guides had preceded me, and in listening to 
the increasing wind which soon roared through the forest, 
like the rumble of distant breakers, I fell asleep. 



248 WOODS AND WATEKS; 



CHAPTER XX. 



Back to Tupper's Lake. — Night Sail down the Lake. — The Echo. — Deserted 
Camp. — Message, woods fashion. — Tupper's Lake left. — Down the Racket, 
Indian Camp. — The Water-lily. — Legend of its Origin. — The Mink. — News 
of the Party.— The "Eagle-nest. —Through Racket Pond. — The Island.— The 
Irish Clearing. — Captain Peter's Rocks. — Camp at Setting-Pole Rapids. 



The morning arose clear and inspiriting. The guides 
had dressed and quartered the moose, and at the early- 
breakfast taken on the inner sheet of fresh, fragrant spruce 
bark, I first tasted that wild wood, delicate luxury, a moose's 

lip. 

We then embarked upon our return course ; I taking a 
farewell glance at Mud Lake, as it hid its sombre loneliness 
from the radiance of the morning, like sorrow from the 
gladness of the world. At sunset we hailed once more the 
plunging waters of Bog River Falls. 

We angled in the upper pool and in the tossing waters 
at the foot of the cascade, with the soft, pleasant light 
from the west sprinkled over the scene ; and in a brief half- 
hour we caught sufficient trout for our supper and break- 
fast at Camp Cedar. Harvey and Phin then stretched 
themselves on the bank at the lowest plunge (for their 
labor on the carries with the moose and boat both had been 
severe), while I explored the beautiful falls — the several 
channels braiding the rocks as they dashed to the basin 
above me and then poured in a rich, divided mass of white 
into the lake ; the rocky nooks at the side where the wild- 
flower dipped its chalice and the bush laved its leaves ; the 
silver; the dark pools where the dashing waters 



249 

paused suddenly, gathering into stagnant quiet the floating 
plants and foam-bells. 

We launched upon the lake once more, pulling toward 
our shanty of the spring. The twilight stole around us as 
we enjoyed our supper at the open front of our bark camp, 
inhaling the spicy odors of the woods and watching the 
melting colors of the water. 

We were interrupted by a furious yelping which burst 
from the side of the shanty, and in a moment more, was 
ringing in the woods arousing a thousand echoes. 

" Watch, by golly !" exclaimed Harvey, and he rushed 
with Phin around the corner of the shanty. 

" Sure enough," said the former, reappearing, with a 
collar and chain, " Watch is off. He's seen a deer, I 'spose, 
and's after 'im." 

" I chained 'im to a stump, round there," chimed in Phin, 
" and let the collar loose a leetle." 

" And he's slipped it off," said Harvey. " I'm dreffle 
sorry. He's as valy'ble to me as the ball o' my thumb. 
Watch! Watch!" 

The echo alone came back from the woods. 

*' It's no go," said Harvey. " But I guess we'd better 
wait a leetle, and then ef he don't turn up, we'll move torts 
camp, and mebbee he'll come in the mornin'." 

The dusk gathered on the landscape, and the barred owl 
skimmed the bushes in his velvet flight, giving now and 
then his strange laugh. 

The umber hues settled at length into the blacks of the 
forest and the clear darks of the slumbering lake. Mount 
Morris loomed up with an occasional flit of summer light- 
ning around his brow ; the Hawk's Nest bore a jewel in its 
hollow, and the Panther seemed watching with a starry eye 
over the raven woods of the wild river we had so lately 
tracked. 

After vainly waiting an hour for the return of Watch, 
we embarked for Camp Cedar. 

A divine quiet tranced the fragrant night. The mea- 

11* 



250 

sured dip of oar and paddle, and the low ripple at the bow, 
alone disturbed the silence. A starry realm was glittering 
on the water. Islands lay before us, each one mass of black ; 
but as we glided by, the trees would part, letting out the 
stars. Crawling motions were perceptible along and be- 
neath the banks, doubtless of the loon or mi^k, skulking 
into coverts. 

Suddenly Harvey lifted his voice in a cry of "Watch!" 
The effect was magical. An echo started up. Far away 
it sped in dulcet boundings, and stopped. Again it sprang 
— away, away — far, far, far — and was lost. Again he 
shouted. Again the bell-like echo — pausing, sounding, 
stopping, sounding — on, on, fainter, fainter, fainter — seem- 
ing to pierce illimitable depths; waxing more ethereal, more 
transparent, till it melted so deliciously, the tingling ear 
could scarcely tell the delicate sound had ceased. 

Two hours passed on, the shores and islands loosening 
from their massed blackness as we neared them, with the 
same ethereal melting of the magical echo waked by the 
frequent shout of Harvey. 

We had now reached the farther end of the east Brother 
Island, when Harvey exclaimed, 

" I don't see no signs of the camp. There aint a spark 
o' fire 1 I guess they've pulled up stakes 1" 

Sure enough, no tent glimmered from the gloom, and the 
sounds of nature, generally hushed in the close presence 
of man, were in full career. Among them was an occasional 
chest-note rolled out by a wakeful frog ; the silvery chirp 
of the cricket sounded about the space, and a fir seemed 
tolKng a little bell in its dark steeple. 

"That's the grey owl, I telled ye about on the Racket, makin' 
the noise in the fir there," said Harvey as we struck the 
shore. "They're all gone sure," continued he, stepping out 
and hauling the bow up the margin. " Here Phin, light the 
jack, and hand me some o' them pine knots from the box, and 
we'll hev a fire a-burnin', that '11 make this dark hole laugh." 

Kindling the knots and the jack from his matches, Phin 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 251 

planted the first among the stumps and logs around, and 
then threw the jack's half-circle of light upon a charred log, 
which told where had been the camp fire. Soon another 
fire blazed there, pouring the dark scene full of ruddj, 
merry light. 

Immediately a stick, bearing in its split head a piece of 
silver birch bark, and inserted in an old log, sprang to sight. 
On the bark were pencil marks (the most villanous scratches 
imaginable, the words sprawling into each other as if for a 
general fight), which ran thus, " gwontewsetnpolraped." 

" What in the name of common sense is this rigmarole, 
Harvey ?" said I, after trying it upside down, backwards, 
and all ways at once. 

"I thought they'd go there," said Harvey, taking his 
pipe from his mouth, and glancing at the scrawl. " It's 
jest as I consated." 

" Go where?" enquired I. 

" Why, the bark tells ye! to Settin' Pole Rapids." 

" Oh !" said I. " Well, we'd better join them in the 
morning !" 

" Sarten," returned Harvey. " 'Twont take more 'n two 
or three hours. They're unly a mile below Racket Pond, 
and that's scurce three miles from here. But what say 
yer, Mr. Smith, to a moose-steak afore turnin' in ?" 

" It wouldn't be amiss. But who is the writer of this, 
Harvey ?" 

" I kinder consate it's Mart's handwrite. He's the best 
at readin' and writin', and all that kind o' trash, of all the 
guides round. But come, Phin, let's hev supper." 

The odors of broiling meats soon vanquished the bal- 
samic night-scents of the wilderness. After a pleasant 
meal by the genial blaze of the camp-fire, which had long 
since chased away the chill of the night, we wrapped 
ourselves in our blankets and sought repose on the boughs 
left by the party, with the gabble of a couple of loons, 
answered by the scornful hoots of half-a-dozen owls echo- 
ing in our ears. 



252 WOODS AND waters; 

Beautiful and bright dawned the day, suffusing the lake 
and forest with a cheery beauty. 

The morning sunlight has a jocund splendor, not shared 
by the sunset. The former, fresh from heaven, seems 
gladdened in obeying the behest of the Creator, while a 
sadness mingles in the latter's brightness, as though it 
grieved over what it had witnessed in its course ; a sad- 
ness that would darken all its lustre, were it not for joy 
that its bidden ministry for the time was ended, and it 
was leaving, if but for a season, a world it had illumed 
only to behold follies, calamities and crimes. 

As I left the shanty, I found Harvey and Phin roaming 
about the deserted camp. 

" There's an orful sight o' used-up bottles round here," 
said the former ; "all hands must a bin more dry than 
common, the last two or three days. There's enough to 
set up a small chany shop. Goll, but here's a bottle filled 
with" (uncorking and tasting) " rum, by golly ! and rael 
old hunderd, too. Well now, this doos beat me, how they 
could a left this 'ere. Wa-a-1 ! there's no 'countin' for 
ennything in this world. Here's luck, Mr. Smith. Oh, 
but aint this fust best !" glueing his lips to the bottle again, 
and withdrawing it with a sigh. " Here, Phin, try some I 
a leetle, though — a leetle ! it'll bite young folks !" 

We lingered until noon, and then bade adieu to Camp 
Cedar. We crossed to the outlet, the whole water-scene 
etherealized in the dreamy haze of the noontide. We 
turned into the narrow channel, and the lovely lake of the 
island-pathways was hidden from our view. 

With the Indian Park at our left, we entered the basin 
into which the river broadens in its downward course. We 
had proceeded some little distance, when clearing a bend, 
we found ourselves in a scene of excitement. A couple 
of bark canoes, in each of which was an Indian, were 
darting forward a little in advance of us, while twenty or 
thirty rods ahead was a deer swimming gallantly down the 
river. 



253 

Tlie sight fired Harvej and PHn. 

Down sped all three of the boats in line, the Indians 
gabbling their gutturals, their wild faces gleaming with 
ardour. 

On went the deer, turning toward a point at the right. 

" Kow, row, row, Phin !" exclaimed Harvey, bending 
low to his paddle, " he's 'most to the shallers, and we must 
be nigher than this, or he's ofiP." 

As he spoke, the deer struck the shallows and bounded 
on in a shower of foam. 

Harvej sprang to his feet. 

" A lee tie nigher!" exclaimed he, twitching up one leg 
after the other, " a leetle — a leetle !" presenting his piece ; 
but as he did so, one of the Indians fired ; and the next 
moment the deer vaulted upon the bank and vanished into 
the forest. 

" Well," said Harvey, lowering his piece, " I don't bear 
no malice agin that buck ; he fit like a man for his life. 
But, goll, ef here aint old Leo agin !" 

" Yese, yese," said one of the Indians; "how do, how 
do?" 

" Fust best, fur an old man," returned Harvey ; " how 
is't, yourself?" 

" Good, good, where nindunhe — aha !" 

"Here!" uncovering the quarters from the blanket. 
" Eh ! aigh ! uh, uh ! oh hang ! where git ? uh, uh ! up 
dere, down dere, over dere — eh ?" 

" Sarten !" 

" Oh hang ! Onyarhe — he go up de — uh, uh — de — 
Ahonogeh Keech-honde — dat ees de" — 

*' Bog River, I spose you mean ?" 

" Yese, yese I Boog Rivaire — up dere — squaut" — 

" Oh, ef you're a goin' to squat agin, I'm off I" 

" Ticknee"— 

" Goin' to camp, Leo ?" 

" Shagh day"— 

" What a derned old fool"— 



254 WOODS AND waters; 

" Yese, yese," said Leo, smiling and bowing, as Harvey, 
in the energy of his vexation, motioned toward him. 
" Yese, Onyarhe fool of uh, uh, o-kah" (placing his finger 
on his eye), " fool of, uh, uh, ooh-tah" (touching his ear), 
'' fool of, uh, uh, owyngawshaw" (placing his hand on his 
heart), " g-r-e-a-t beeg Achshanuane" (lifting his form), " de 
chief de Senekee !" 

" Well, Leo, we go to wigwam now," said Harvey. 

''Oh yese — nindunhe — uh, hah! — you git moose I 
Onyarhe beeg chief ! he no git no moose up dere" — 

'' Come 'long, Leo !" 

" Oh yese, you git moose. 0-h hang! yese !" 

In a little cove to the left, canoes were moored, and 
thither the Indians led the way. As we struck the bank, 
I saw through the open trees a long tent or shanty on the 
brow of the ridge. Two of the canoes were of birch-bark, 
beautifully made, sewed with deer's sinews, and shaped in 
a crescent, with pointed tips, swelling gradually to the 
waist or middle. They were without seats, and of a rich 
yellow hue. Moose hair was braided into their sides, with 
bright beads and bits of red and purple cloth. The paddles 
were smooth ; and altogether the canoes seemed admirably 
fitted for the streams and lakes of the wilderness. 

The two other craft were mere dug-outs, birch logs, 
hollowed, and as Harvey expressed it, " consid'ble tottlish." 

A peculiar jack for night-hunting leaned against a tree. 
It was of tin, shaped like a little cask, with the handle in 
the middle, and a leather blind, so as either to cover the 
light, or, by an aperture the size of a buckshot, to diminish 
it to a speck. 

A slight track led me up the ridge to the wigwam. It 
was merely of blankets over a skeleton of poles, and stood 
in a small space cut from the forest, with large peeled logs 
before the entrance, evidently the out-door settees. 

Two Indian women, one a crone, and the other a large- 
framed girl of twenty, were in the shanty, seated on their 
knees, embroidering a pair of deerskin moccasins. 



I 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 255 

An Indian lad of sixteen was on one of the logs fasten- 
ing hooks to fish-lines. 

They were a family of the St. Eegis Tribe, living by the 
Lake of the Two Mountains, an expansion of the Ottawa 
River in Canada. Every summer, for the last year or two, 
they had ascended the Racket, and while the men foraged the 
waters and forests for trout and venison, the women tanned 
deerskins and worked them into purses and moccasins. 

The girl, I found, was the wife of the Indian I had seen 
among the lumber people at Cold River. 

Although Leo had joined the Tribe of the Two Moun- 
tains, he was in fact a Seneca. 

" Talk Iroquois ?" said the girl to me, after I had bought 
a pair of moccasins. " St. Regis ?" 

I shook my head. 

"Senekee?" 

Again a negative shake. 

In a low, musical voice, she then began : " Hah-wen-ne-yo 
(her broken English I discard) loved His children the Iro- 
quois. They lived scattered, till To-gan-a-we-ta joined them 
in the League, making the branches one tree. Then they 
grew mighty. Their tomahawks turned red among the 
snowbanks of the Hurons and the flowers of the Chero- 
kees. One end of their Long House looked upon the great 
River, where tumbles the Thunder- Water, the other on the 
stream that crawls from Ta-ha-wus to roll into the Salt 
Lake that has no shore. How strong and happy they 
were ! But two large birds with white wings came — one 
up the stream of Ta-ha-wus, the other up the River of the 
Thunder- Water. They bore the white man. Where are 
the Iroquois now ?" in a wailing accent, clasping her hands 
and bowing her head in an attitude of intense grief. 

" Gone !" here broke in the crone. " Ho-de-no-sonne 
gone ! white man here — red man no here no more 1" 

•* Well, Mr. Smith, we'd better be agoin', hadn't we ?" 
said Harvey, coming up with Leo and the other Indian. 
*' I've bin lookin' at a wolf's paw that the critter 'ad gnawed 



256 WOODS AND waters; 

off after he'd got inter Leo's trap out there. What a farse 
critter a wolf is, after all ! though I don't mind 'm in the 
woods a bit more'n a dog. But good-bye, Leo, and all the 
rest on ye!" 

" Goo-bye, goo-bye," returned Leo. " You kill moose — 
me no kill no moose" 

" Good-bye, good-bye !" 

" Up dere, over dere — Boog Eivaire ! oh hang ! goo-bye I 
hang!" 

" I'd ruther talk to a beaver, enny day, than old Leo," said 
Harvey, after we were afloat again. " He raally don't 'pear 
to onderstand nothin'." 

We wound along the banks, the water green with the 
floss silk of the rich, swaying eel-grass which the boat drew 
into the most graceful and plume-like shapes. 

" The deer's very fond of the roots of that aire grass," said 
Harvey, " as much a'most as the ^^aller lily-stems. The 
white lily they never take to, when they kin git the other. 
The stem's tougher. They're very fond too, in the spring, 
of the lily-pots." 

"Lily-pots?" 

" Yes. They're a plant that grows on the bottom of the 
water, the fust thing in spring. They look a good deal 
like a collyflower." 

The white and yellow water-lilies also grow from an 
immense, rough stem, several feet in length, embedded in 
the bottom. This throws out fibres which, lengthening, 
lets up the bud to blossom on the surface. 

May crowns the yellow lily with her gold diadem, but 
the white receives her perfumed chalice from the hands of 
more beautiful June. As before observed, the chalice shuts 
at sunset to re-open at the morn. 

The white lily delights in the empire of the ponds and 
lakes, as if her loveliness demanded a broad domain,wherein 
to smile upon island and headland, ripple of breeze, wake of 
loon and shadow of eagle ; but the sister finds more con- 
genial reign in the narrow kingdom of stream and river. 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 257 

The following is a St. Kegis legend concerning the origin 
of the lily, yellow and white. 

" The eagle is screaming, hark ! Soaring and scream- 
ing on high I See ! the red war-path is bright ! See ! the 
great warrior comes ! He, the Brave of his people, Wa- 
yo-tah the Chief of the Saranacs ! He The Blazing Sun. 
He comes from the trembling Ta-ha-wi — kooh I the quaking 
Ta-ha-wi. The Blazing Sun has changed them to women I 
Hooh, hooh. The Blazing Sun I Wa-yo-tah, the Chief of 
his Tribe ! Wa-yo-tah, The Blazing Sun !" 

Such were the sounds that pealed from the Isle of the 
Eagle in the Lake of the Clustered Stars. Beautiful Lake 
of islands, that are strewed on its bosom of crystal as spots 
on the back of the loon ! 

Wa-yo-tah, Chief of the Lower Saranacs, has come from 
the war-path laden with scalps of the wild Ta-ha-wi — the 
foes of his people and race. Therefore the song goes up 
in the sunset from a hundred voices ; from the boy whose 
plume is the red rose of the dingle to the sire on whose 
head fourscore winters have frozen. And the matrons and 
maidens of the Tribe, they, too, raise the song. 

And as all sing, all dance the dance of victory. The 
warriors circle the war-post, whirling their hatchets and 
knives that glance round their forms as lightnings glance 
round the trees. And the women in their ring apart, sing 
their sweet-voiced songs and toss their arms in triumph. 

But who is that pale and silent maiden hovering near the 
ring of the women ? Pale is she as the first little flower that 
Spring opens with her timid touch, save when the red tints 
glance across her face, as sunset glances on rippling waters. 

Now her eyes flash in triumph and now their sparkle is 
quenched in tears. Who is this lovely maid of the Saranacs ? 
Why does she stand apart, changeful in her mood as the 
month of the dawning blossoms — the month of the sun and 
rain ? Ah, 0-see-tah, sweet Bird of the Tribe ! she loves and ' 
she suffers ! She loves the Chief of her people, Wa-yo-tah 
The Blazing Sun. She loves and she suffers. Hah-wen-ne-yo 



258 



has given a mate to the lodge of the Sun ; not 0-see-tah the 
Bird; but To-scen-do the Morning. Still, Wa-yo-tah is 
young and has seen that 0-see-tah loves him, and his own 
heart is wild with love for 0-see-tah. And therefore has ; 
he whispered in her ear, " Let the beautiful Bird of the ! 
Saranacs warble to The Sun her melody of love !" And 
she has answered, " Go ! Wa-yo-tah does not well ! Hah- 
wen-ne-yo has said, ' Let the glance of The Sun shine only 
on the cheek of The Morning !' Go, leave the Bird of the ; 
Saranacs to pour her note in loneliness !" 

But Wa-yo-tah has despaired not ; he has trusted that the 
music of The Bird might still be waked to the kindling • 
glance of The Sun. And now in this hour of his triumph, 
he has watched her as she smiled and wept, blushed and 
grew pale, to his praises from the Tribe. 

And at last the sorrowful maid, she, the lonely 0-see- 
tah — pure as the fountain under the rock — has unbound 
her fleet canoe and fled through the starry darkness to an 
island of the lake — fled to moan her sorrow to the water 
and the wind. 

Wa-yo-tah has watched her and followed. " Bird of the 
Saranacs, let thy warble cheer the heart of Wa-yo-tah. Behold, 
he has come from the trail of the proud Ta-ha-wi, and his 
belt is heavy with the scalps of the foe ! * Hooh, the Brave 
of his people ! Hooh, The Blazing Sun !' These are the 
songs that pealed in the ear of 0-see-tah and Wa-yo-tah, , 
but all would Wa-yo-tah give for one note of love from the ! 
bright Bird of his Tribe." 

"Away! Sun of the Saranacs! Shall the Blaze that 
scorched the fierce Ta-ha-wi burn the little Bird that has 
piped to her harm to the Fiery Light ? Away ! 0-see- 
tah's heart is weak, but her ear shall not listen to the 
words of Wa-yo-tah !" 

" 0-see-tah must listen !" 

"Away!" 

" The Bird must fold her wing to the warmth of the 
loving Sun !" 



259 

" Away !" 

" 0-see-tah shall listen to the Chief of her people!" 

He darted forward and she bounded away. Away her 
light form flew, to a rock overhanging the lake. She stood 
upon the edge and waved him back. 

But he came onward. 

She balanced on the edge and waved him back. 

But he came onward. 

She waved her arms upward to Hah-wen-ne yo and 
sprang. Wa-yo-tah darted to the brink and sprang also. 
He rose — the water was black in a crossing cloud; the 
black water alone met his yearning sight. " 0-see-tah ! 
0-see-tah !" as with maddened strength he cleaved the 
wave, " where art thou ? Bird of the Saranacs ! ah, beau- 
tiful Bird of my Tribe, speak ! let Wa-yo-tah rescue thee 
and no more will he molest thee with his love. 0-see-tah ! 
0-see-tah !" but no voice answered. 

And the East opened her eye over the Lake of the Clus- 
tered Stars, but where was the Bird of the Saranacs? 
" Where is my little Bird, the little sad warbler of my 
lodge?" asked the old father — a Brave of many battles. 
" Oh, where is my Bird, my Bird ?" moaned the mother — 
she the most honored of all the matrons that bore the totem 
of the Panther. " Where is 0-see-tah ?" asked the young 
warriors, and '' Alas, where is 0-see-tah ?" asked the bloom- 
ing maidens. 

The Chief heard, and as he heard, his head sank lower 
and lower. The day passed and the night, and again the 
East opened her brightness, and his head drooped lower 
still, and his step was slow, for his heart was heavy. And 
the sorrowful To-scen-do told her sire that Wa-yo-tah 
moaned in his sleep like the pine in the low breeze of the 
evening. 

Well might Wa-yo-tah moan, and name himself Ne-so. 
Truly had the Sun become the Night ; Night with the wail 
of the whippoorwill, instead of the Sun with the scream of 
the eagle. Night with eternal wail ; wail for the love that 



260 WOODS AND waters; 

Hah-wen-ne-yo frowned on ; wail for the love that should 
have been all To-scen-do's ; wail for the love that had 
destroyed The Bird ; wail, wail for the fate of the beautiful 
Bird of the Saranacs I 

And the Night sought in his sorrow the lonely lodge of [ 
the Great Medicine of the Tribe. 

As noon gleamed on the village, a fisherman came witl 
tidings of a strange sight. In a hidden cove of the Isle oft 
Elms, was a robe of flowers on the breast of the water, somee 
white as the feathers of winter and others yellow as thee 
lake at sunset. The Tribe all hurried to the scene, and 
there indeed was the sheet of blossom. 

And " See!" said the old Medicine, the pine ringed with 
a hundred winters, "there lives 0-see-tah! the white hen 
purity, the yellow her burning love! And see!" said he, 
after they had gazed again and again, on the beautiful blos- 
soms, " holy in her purity, the love still sways her. She 
closes her bright heart in sorrow at the going of the sun, 
to open it in joy at his coming." 

" And," continued the old Indian, the narrator, " Hah- 
wen-ne-yo, to mark between the love and the purity, placed 
a moon between the blossoming of the two, and made the 
broad lake cherish the purity, and the narrow stream the 
love." 

We turned a thicket, and a light, brisk, sipping sound, 
or whistling chirp, came from the bank. 

" There's a mink on shore there somewheres," said Har- 
vey. " I see 'im ! He's nosin' up suthin' fur dinner." 

The little animal was bounding between the thickets with 
its head grazing the earth, like a hound's. It stopped a 
moment, and Harvey raised his rifle. 

" Ah, it's gone !" exclaimed he, " yusp, yusp — 'twill be 
out in a minute agin though." 

" Let's see what it will do, Harvey I" Harvey nodded, 
and we glided behind a bush. 

He repeated his chirp, and the mink reappeared, this 
time pricking its short ears and rearing its white-starred 



261 

throat, apparently at some object. The next moment a 
frog, with a flying leap, plumped into the water, and the 
[ittle shore-haunter vanished. 

"Where do they have their burrow, Harvey?" 

" They don't have none of their own, as a gin'ral thing, 
rhey're squatters like, in mushrat holes. They're a farse 
little critter. They'll take a mushrat by the throat in the 
fvater, for all he's the biggest, and kill 'im 'most as quick 
IS a dog. But here's Racket Pond." 

This pond, or Lough Neak (its Indian name is Tsi-kan- 
,-on-wa-res-ko-wa), has an average width of half a mile, and 
.s three miles in length. 

"'Sposin' we call at MacLaughlin's a moment," said 
Harvey, pointing at a large log hut which stood with out- 
louses on the north bank of the pond, " and hear what 
lews there is." 

As he spoke a succession of yelps burst from the direc- 
;ion pointed out, sounding as if in the insanity of canine 

" Why, that's Watch, sarten," said Harvey, " and here he 
jomes." 

Sure enough, the hound at seeing his master, had taken 
;o the water, and whimpering, with his head up, was ra- 
Didly approaching. We pushed to meet him, and in a 
few minutes he was drawn into the boat by Harvey, shak- 
ng a shower of spray around him, and the next moment 
NSiS thrusting his nose all over his master, whining, and 
iwisting his lithe frame almost double. 

" Poor dog, poor pup, good Watch ! where has Watch 
Din, hey?" said Harvey, patting his head and smoothing 
Dack his ears, while Watch broke every moment out from 
lis whine into a shrill bark of delight. 

" You've got your dog, I see, Harve," said a man on the 
shore as the boat touched it. 

"Where did you pick 'im up, Mac?" returned Harvey. 

" B'low Settin' Pole Rapids. I see 'im swimmin' crost 
the river, from about the lay o' Gull Pond." 



262 

" I hev it. He left us last night at the head of Tupper'sr 
Lake, after a deer I'm sarten, and druv it inter Gull Pond. 
That's it. How is't, Mac, about the deer here? Plenty?" 

"I see two yisterday at the Irish Clearin', and an al- 
mighty sight o' tracks jest opp'site Captain Peter's Kocks." 

*' Did ye see a party at the Kapids ?" 

" Oh yes. There's four on 'm with Cort, Mart, "Will, 
and Corey, without reck'nin' little Jess." 

" Hev they had enny luck ?" 

" Lots o' trout, and three deer." 

" How long had they bin there?" 

" xlbout two days, I b'leeve. They're hevin' all sorts o' 
fun there." 

" There's one feller there," said a rough-looking black- 
bearded woodman, who had joined us from the house, 
" a tall chap, wot seems detarmined on claimin' two of the 
three deer as his shots. And Cort, he backs 'im up. The 
three others, smart bright chaps they are too, do nothin' but 
laugh when the tall feller (I forgit what they called 'im, 
but I call 'im Legs, and dreffle long ones they are), goes on 
to explain matters, as he says. 'Why gen'l'ums,' he'll 
say, ' there's no mistake about it. How could I help kill 
'm ? I wasn't ten rods off from both on 'm.' And then 
they'll laugh agin. He's consid'ble techy, I've an idee, on: 
the p'int o' killin' deer, though he seems etarnally runnin' 
the others on every other p'int. Oh, they're heving a highi 
old time there." 

" Well, we must be a goin'. We're on the way to jine 
this party. We b'long to 'm." 

" So I onderstand," said the woodman. " Legs was a-i 
shoutin' and a-preachin' about Smith (I b'leeve that wasi 
the name) gittin' up Bog Kiver there, and never findin' hisj 
way out. ' Fur you see, gen'l'ums,' he'd say, ' ef there's'! 
a wrong way, Smith's al'ys sure to take it, and ef Harvey j 
should lose sight on 'im a minute, he'd stray off, and ef he 
found his way out 'tall, which I've no idee he would, he'd| 
come out torts St. Lorrence ; kind o' burrer out like a mole.'* 



263 

" Push off, Harvey," said I, " or we wont get down there 
to-day." 

" Good bye!" said Harvey, with a chuckle, and, dipping 
his paddle while Phin, grinning, bent to his oars, we 
stretched out into the pond. 

" In them rushes out there," remarked Harvey, after a 
little while, and dipping his head to the north, where a 
broad surface of those plants extended, " it's fust best for 
floatin', and 'long in Wolf Brook, that comes in out there. 
But look at the eagle's nest on that dead pine," pointing 
out the object on the same side of the bank. " You kin 
see the young 'un lookin' over the edge o' the nest for 
its daddy or mammy to come home, with suthin' to eat, 
I 'spose." 

True ; there was a small head pointing from the grey 
nest, and I fancied the gleam of the young tawny eyes, as 
the fierce dam swooped down with the partridge or rabbit 
for the expected feast. 

We now glided along a shore (also on the north side), 
which presented that same soft and rural look, with its 
single trees, shrubbery-like bushes, and smooth, green-sward 
I had so often admired throughout the forest. At the left 
rose the top of Gull Pond Mountain, and the higher sum- 
mit of Mount Morris ; and all around, with the exception of 
MacLaughlin's uplands, and the beautiful park just noticed, 
swept as usual the wilderness. 

We landed, for a moment, on a beautiful island full 
of elms, where, as Harvey said, " There might be suthin' 
of a chance o' seein' a deer," and where he pointed out a 
tree, in the fork of which " he'd time and agin sot hours 
watchin' fur deer on the shores and round ;" and then, find- 
ing his "suthin' of a chance" nothing, we continued on 
our way. 

I The old guide also showed me the Irish Clearing, or the 
" Paddy's Choppin'," a steep clearing on the south bank, 
i" made by a little stumpy Paddy who'd cleared the coun- 
try ;" adding, " there wa'n't no better place fur deer about." 



264 

In a mile or two more, the banks approached each other. 

" Cap'n Peter's Eocks, and we're through the pond," said 
Harvey, glancing at several immense grey masses standing 
in the water and separating it into alleys. '' Old Cap'n 
Peter was an Injin and used to hide his game there. 
Mitchell Sabatis, the Injin guide up in Newcomb, is his 
son." 

A mile more of the stream was passed, and we came 
to a broad bend, the gleam of a fire breaking out from 
among the trees. 

" There's the camp," said Harvey, '' and a nice,liigh, dry 
spot they hev, too. It's at the head o' the rapids. Don't 
ye hear 'm rattle ?" 

We struck the bank at our right, where a beautiful cove 
rounded into the shore. Here we found the boats of our 
party moored to the logs, and drawn half-way into the 
wild grass. A light path wound up the bluff or headland, 
and, ascending, I found myself at the camp. 

A large pine, with a hollow in its heart from decay and 
fire, was at my left ; and flanking it, with a background of 
thicket parallel to the rapids below and with an open space 
before, stood the two tents. A large camp-fire blazed in 
front. A buck's head was looking from the hollowed pine 
on a pole, and the usual quarters of venison and piles of 
trout were hanging and lying around. Supper was now 
preparing. Cort was toasting slices of bread, fastened by 
wooden pins to a large maple block ; Mart was cooking 
rows of trout, pinned in the same manner, one row over 
the other, with shreds of salt pork, to a concave flake of 
birch bark curled at the bottom to receive the drippings ; 
and Will was giving the " ramrod toast " to cuts of venison, 
i.e. roasting them on sticks which he held before the fire. 
Corey was bending over the camp-kettle, ladling out smok- 
ing hot potatoes on a leaf of spruce bark. The table was 
at one side, with Little Jess arranging the pewter dishes 
upon it, while, seated on a log, were my three comrades. 

Wandering sunset lights put their kindling touch upon 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 265 

various points of this picture, chequering tents, comrades 
and guides ; and showered into the forest so that a sprout, 
a mossy stone, a bit of cedar fringe, a tassel of tamarack, 
or the round of a hemlock stem glowed seemingly in golden 
fire. 

" Hurrah !" exclaimed Bingham, standing up and strik- 
ing an attitude. " Art thou a goblin damned ! — sent to 
torment us before our time ! — come, let me clutch thee" — 
mixing his quotations and gestures most energetically. 
" Gentlemen," taking an oratorical position, " behold a 
wonder ! Smith has returned ! Chance or Harvey Moody 
has favored him, not himself! He never would alone have 
returned to bless his friends. Why, I made up my mind 
to begin to-night to mourn the dead. Well, we're awful 
glad to see you, Smith ! But where's your moose ?" 

" In the boat !" said I, after exchanging warm greetings 
with Kalph and Gaylor. 

" Umph I" said Bingham, " as much as I am in Elysium, 
among the gods. How this world is given to — what shall 
I add, gentlemen ?" 

"Add, bragging about deer one never shoots," said 
Gaylor. 

" Confound it !" returned Bingham in a heat, " I tell you, 
I've no more doubt I shot those deer than — but here comes 
Harvey and Phin I Well, Harvey, is it a fact you've got 
a moose among ye ?" 

" It's a rael old hunderd truth, Mr. Bingham I you kin 
go down to the boat and look at the quarters !" 

"Lord!" said Bingham, "what luck some folks have. 
Still, two deer are equal to one moose, eh, Harvey ?" 

" Why, yes ; that is about, ef so be Mr. Bingham has 
shot two." 

"If! if!" said Bingham. "Well, I'll say no more," 
waving his hand. " Cort, bring me my rifle, I want to 
examine it a moment." 

Here Sport appeared around a thicket, trotting rapidly 
eidewise, steering by his perpendicular tail, while Drive 

12 



266 

cleared a bush with a flying bound, both darting toward 
Watch. The three in a moment made one revolving braid, 
then galloped away, the two lavishing caressing bites on 
"Watch, until, gurgling and yelping, all disappeared down 
the bank. Meanwhile, Pup, knowing he would receive 
in the hubbub more cuffs than caresses, had stood apart, 
jerking himself off his feet with his barks. As the three 
vanished, however, he set off after them with legs that 
seemed split up into a centipede's. 

Eight pleasantly passed our meal, all together once more, 
and after it I strolled about, marking the localities. From 
the overhanging corner of the bluff, where the rapids begin, 
I looked at the bold sweeping bend, the quiet cove, the 
high banks ; and caught glimpses of the dashing, foaming 
waters, now crimsoned by the sunset. An evening in camp 
succeeded, the hours passing quickly away in smoking, 
talking and dipping moderately into Harvey's fragrant 
punches, with the monotone of the rapids filling the pauses 
(to say nothing of the needle-points of the infernal mus- 
quitoes sprinkling us all over as with fire-dust) till the stars 
of midnight warned us to repose. 



267 



CHAPTER XXI. 

Fish-Hawk Rapids. — Perciefield Falls. — Death of Sabele. — Beaver Trip 
agreed upon. — Floating. — The Dark Woods. — The Foot-Tread. — The 
Indian Jack-Light. 

Eenning and Gaylor started down the river, as the sun 
rose, to fish Dead Creek. Coburn and Bingham went with 
Cort to the Irish Clearing for a drive, while Harvey and I 
left for Perciefield Falls, three miles down the Racket. 

Shrouding his head and the greater part of his back in 
the shell of his reversed boat, Harvey strode over the carry 
round the rapids like some paleozoic lizard on two legs, 
speckled with the light trickling through the leaves, while 
I followed. Embarking at the foot of the swift water, we 
glided two miles down between the wooded islets and 
grassy spaces of the broad river which expands from Tup- 
per's Lake downward to double its size above. 

" Here's a boom o' the river-drivers," said Harvey at 
length, as we skirted a long piece of timber stretched upon 
the surface of the river ; " and over there," nodding to the 
east, " is Gull Pond Brook. And here's Fish- Hawk 
Rapids ! What a rattle they keep up ! They're called so 
from a fish-hawk's nest that used ter onst be on the top of 
a pine at the head on 'm. Jess so, Settin' Pole Rapids is 
called from the Injins in old times, when they used ter 
come up the Racket from St. Lorrence, leavin' their settin' 
poles stuck in the bank at the head o' the rapids. But 
there's a carry here to the falls." 

We left our boat, and after a half-mile's tramp down the 
west bank, along a narrow path, we heard the rumble of 
the water-fall. 



268 WOODS AND waters;. 

We again struck ike river at the foot of the rapids, where 
a short space of smooth water intervened between them 
and the falls. Skirting then the bank and scrambling 
over fallen trunks which bridged chasms, through prostrate 
trees bristling with sharp points, among brambles and 
blinding thickets, we emerged upon the broad, smooth 
granite ledges, at the head of the falls and forming a stair- 
way to their foot. Descending, we stood on a projecting 
rock, whence we gained an upward view. Down three 
terraces the torrent sprang, almost directly at us, white 
and wild with fury; then, flinging upward its mane of 
spray, it plunged into the tranquil Kacket. 

As I stood where the surges boiled like a witch's caul- 
dron, over a rock, and gazed at the river hidden away in 
the wilderness's heart, here bursting into foamy lightnings 
and jarring thunders, the reverie into which I was gliding 
was broken by Harvey. 

" One o' the guides hed a tight squeeze of his life above 
these falls," he remarked. " He took the idee to shoot 
Fish-Hawk Rapids, and went through safe, but he got 
kind a foolhardy in the smooth water, and the fust he 
knowed he was goin' it fast torts the falls. D'ye see that 
dam o' timber up there at the head ? It's called a wing 
dam, and was made by the river-drivers to hev it easier fur 
the logs to shoot over. Well, when he — what was that feller's 
name? — I disremember now, but he went by the name o' 
Paddlin' Pete, 'caze of the nice paddle he drawed, night- 
huntin'. Well, when he found that he was likely to go down 
over the falls, he throwed himself out o' the boat and 
ketched by chance a hold o' the bushes on the side o' the 
dam, and away went the boat. It shot agin the timber and 
then, whang, down it tumbled and rolled ; and by the time 
it got to where we are, there was some sticks and splinters 
a-whirlin' and a-floatin' round, but nothin' else. Didn't 
that guide quake when he stood safe on the bank ? 'Twas 
touch and go with him, and more likely the go, unly it 
jeest wa'n't." 



269 

As we returned, Harvey related in detail the fate of the 
old Indian Chief Sabele, as told him by an eye-witness, a 
hunter, who was shantying for the time on the spot, trap- 
ping sable. 

Left alone of all his tribe and borne down by his many 
sorrows, feeling, too, the near approaches of old age, the 
Chief launched his canoe, after bearing it over the carries 
of the two rapids, on the calm water at the torrent's head. 
Arrayed in the full costume of a Chief and warrior, 
glaring in black and crimson paint, his wolfskin round his 
loins, the scalplock erect on his head, knife in his wampum 
belt, and gun and tomahawk slung at his back, the aged 
savage stood singing his death-song as he glided toward the 
verge. Nearer and nearer slid his canoe ; higher and 
higher swelled the death-chaunt. The frail bark trembles 
at the edge ; it bends ; down like an arrow it shoots, down 
over the terraces of foam. The hunter, quivering with 
horror, gazes on the dark water below the falls ; he sees 
nothing but a few splinters floating along the quiet river. 

I had a pleasant sail and stroll in the afternoon light, and 
at Camp Tamarack found Kalph and Graylor with two fine 
baskets of trout, and Bingham and Coburn with — loud 
assertions from the former, that " he must have killed him ! 
why, he couldn't have been more than ten rods off," but I 
regret to say again, with nothing else. 

Hearing that Mart and Will talked of a hunt by jack- 
light in the evening, T determined to join them in this fas- 
cinating sport. 

At dusk, while they were preparing, Harvey joined me 
with his rod at the rock by the cove, where I was watch- 
ing the fading colors of the scene. 

" Well, Harvey, you know, I suppose, we break up camp 
to-morrow." 

" I hed an idee so from the talk at supper," answered he, 
whipping up a trout, " and as I went by the tent jest now, 
I heerd Mr. Bingham say in' that he was tuckered out with 
Settin' Pole Rapids ; that there -wa'n't no deer here, and 



270 

that he for one was a goin' to move his settin' poles rapid 
torts Baker's as sun as poss'ble — ha ! ha I ho I" 

'* You remember our talk about the beaver up in the 
St. Eegis woods, Harvey ?" 

" Sarten." 

" My friends return to Baker's by way of the Backet. 
Suppose we separate from them, and take the jaunt we 
agreed upon." 

" I'm with ye, Mr. Smith." 

" What will be our course to reach the St. Eegis Ponds ?" 

"Go up Wolf Brook out of Kacket Pond to Little and 
Big Wolf Ponds, and then through a passle o' ponds, west 
and north o' Upper S'nac, to Hoel's Pond." 

" How many carries ?" 

" Eight to Hoel's : two a mile long, and one half a mile, 
and the rest from four to twenty rods." 

" After we get to Hoel's, what then?" 

** We leave the boat and steer into the woods, five or six 
mile, till we come to the waters where the beaver is. On- 
derstand now, Mr. Smith! I won't promise to show ye 
the beaver, and I want not to, nuther. But I'll show ye 
plenty o' beaver sign and fresh too; and beaver housen 
good as ef made to-day. Many and many's the time I've 
trapped beaver on them waters, and last October I trapped 
two." 

" Enough, Harvey, we go; and as the route must be a 
pretty hard one, take Phin with you." 

" All right I and we'll hev an airly start to-morrer morn- 
in'." 

" How long will it take to make the trip?" 

" About four days." 

At this moment Mart and Will informed me all was 
ready, and we pushed off. Mart rowing and Will at the 
stern with the paddle. The jack was not yet lighted. 

"This is the lucky boat, Mr. Smith," said Mart; "one 
deer, as Harve says, is as good as dead, and mebby two ; 
hey, Will?" 



271 

" Oh yes I" said taciturn Will. 

" The other fellers goes out," resumed Mart, " and ef so 
be as how they don't git no deer, there's a'lys a reason for't, 
a'lys. They didn't see right or the deer was too fur off, 
or the rifle wasn't good, or" 

He broke off, looked keenly a moment, grasped his rifle, 
and fired. We were just abreast of a wild meadow, and I 
caught a dissolving view of a deer bounding away between 
two bushes. 

" He's gone. Mart," said Will, looking at him. Mart 
looked at his rifle. 

" He wan't mor'n ten rods off. Mart," said Will. 

*' Hey ?" ejaculated Mart, still eyeing his rifle. 

" Jeest about ten rods !" responded Will. 

" Twenty, by hookey ! Will. I jest got sight on 'im, that's 
all. This aint my rifle, Will. It's Harvey's, as sure as preach- 
in'. I didn't look at it when we left camp, and thought 
as much as could be, 'twas mine, they're so cluss alike. I 
kin hardly tell 'm apart any way, but I see it's his rifle. 
Well, Isnum!" 

"ZactlyP'saidWill. 

" Twenty rods. Will I" 

" Jess so I" said Will, with a gurgling sound in his 
throat. 

"And then the rifle ! Will. Unly think," looking up and 
down and all round the weapon. " I don't b'leeve (length- 
ening out his words as if in deep thought), I raally don't 
b'leeve I ever shot this rifle afore in my life. There's 
everything in a rifle that you've a'lys shot with, hey. Will?" 

" Jess so," said Will, turning his face aside with a broad 
grin on it. 

" Ah, it's old hunderd, as Harve says, to shoot a rifle 
you know all about. By the way, I didn't see enny thing 
but the tail, Will. 'Twas dreffle quick work to see 't all," 
and Mart essayed to sing. He couldn't ; so he whistled. 

The gold light faded into grey, as we reached Captain 
Peter's Eocks and skirted the shore of Racket Pond to the 



272 WOODS AND WATEKS; 

left, and when we had arrived opposite the Irish Clearing, 
the trees were mingling in the umber dusk. 

While listening to the pleasant ripples of our darkening 
course, I saw Mart thrust forward his head and aim his 
rifle like lightning. A shoot of red light, a crack, and a 
dart of the boat toward the shore followed. As we entered 
the shallow, rustling through a belt of lilj-pads, I caught 
sight of a large object glancing in the dark water, and the 
next moment Mart had grasped the antlers of a buck. 

^' Dead enough, Will," chuckled he. 

" How on earth could jou see to shoot. Mart," remarked 
I, " in this light ?" 

'* I see 'im and heerd 'im too," said Mart, laughing. 
" I heerd his drip, drip, in the water, and then I see suthin' 
dark, that I had a notion might be the head or forequarters 
of a deer, and blazed away. He was feedin' on the 
pads." 

It was really an extraordinary shot, and fully redeemed 
the first failure. 

Indeed I have been frequently struck with the keenness 
of both ear and eye possessed by these guides, seeming, in 
many instances, almost intuition, and rivalling that of the 
native Indian. 

Mart now kindled the jack, and I was noting the flitting 
effects of the light upon the bank, when I heard the 
quick click of Mart's locks, succeeded by another report of 
his rifle. 

"He's off!" said Will, urging the boat ashore with a 
powerful sweep of his paddle. 

" Not fur, though, I guess," returned Mart, springing 
from the boat. 

He lighted a match, and making a little lantern with his 
hollowed hand, lowered it to the shrubs around, kindling 
them with a fire-fly radiance. 

" There's blood," said Mart ; " one drop here, and one on 
this brake. Bring on the jack. Will ; I've peppered 'im. 
See," lighting another match, and sprinkling more light 



273 

from his sweeping hand upon the herbage, " he's bled 
some, I tell je." 

Will now came np with the jack, which cast a broad, 
steady radiance. 

" Here's the track," said Mart, holding the jack close to 
the bushes ; " and here's more blood and hair. We'll find 
'im lyin' down furder on ;" and we entered the forest. 

We had gone on a little in the black woods, Mart and 
Will bending low, scrutinizing the weedy growth at our 
feet, when the former, turning to me, said : 

" Will you please stay here a leetle, Mr. Smith, and 
Will and I'll go furder in. When we whoop, ef you'll 
whoop too, we kin find the boat agin. It's so dark, we'll 
lose it ef we don't do so." 

I assented, and the two pushed on, the light, low voices, 
and slight crackling of even their careful footsteps, becom- 
ing fainter and fainter, until all ceased. 

I was now in almost impenetrable darkness, or rather 
blackness, only two or three outlines around and above 
betraying the trees. 

Presently the hissing whine of an owl commenced close 
to me ; but it soon ceased, and a breathless silence again 
reigned. Suddenly I heard in the sable depths a low rus- 
tling, as of a slow, stealthy tread — sounding, ceasing, sound- 
ing again — coming closer and closer. It approached to 
within a few rods, stopped, advanced, stopped again ; then 
came nearer, nearer, till within several feet of me; and 
then once more it stopped, A slight scratching sound 
succeeded ; but at this moment a clear whoop rang in front. 
I answered it ; a touch of light showed upon a bush, and 
a glow lighted upon a trunk, At the same time, I heard 
a loud and now hi:^r]:ied rustling, with boundings, in the 
direction of the fornier sounds and lessening, until lost in 
a course the farthest from the light. 

The latter brightened momentarily ; voices again sounded, 
m^ Mairt and Will approached. 

^'- We hevn't hed no luck, Mr. Smith," said the former, 

12* 



274 WOODS AND waters; 

as we returned toward where we supposed the boat lay. 
" The deer's bin 'cute enough to git off so fur ; but I rayther 
guess we'll try it agin in the mornin'." 

And such disappointment has been generally my expe- 
rience in following wounded deer, the animal's endurance 
being so great, and its haunts so secret. Now and then 
the hunter, tracking by signs, finds the victim where he 
has lain down to die ; but the success is the exception, not 
the rule. 

We found our boat, and pushed off. 

" Spos'n we try Wolf Brook now. Will ?" said Mart. 

Will nodded, and we continued upward. 

As we turned a curve of the bank, a light like a star 
appeared ahead, just over the water, rapidly enlarging, and 
coming down the pond obliquely. 

" A jack makin' for the Brook," said Mart, in a whisper. 
" I shouldn't wonder ef 'twas the Injins. Quick, Will, 
quick, or they'll be ahead on us, sure as a gun !" 

Onward skimmed the light, like a will-o'-the-wisp, toward 
the shore at our left, and onward we darted at the same 
point. The race became animating. Mart having betaken 
himself to the oars. Both lights were within the broad 
rushes that cover the shallows of the pond in this direc- 
tion ; and it seemed at one moment as if we should win 
the entrance ; but the red spot glanced through a cluster 
of thicket and vanished. 

" Gaul hang !" exclaimed Mart, " they're in the Brook. 
But spos'n we go up past where the Injins is camped. I 
don't bleeve they've floated up there to-night, and we 
might stand a good chance o' findin' another deer afore we 
git to the Injin Park." 

We accordingly floated to the basin before the Park, and 
back again to within a short distance of Racket Pond, but 
without success. Suddenly a light appeared from around 
a bend of the river. It was zigzagging along toward us, 
pausing a moment, then advancing as before. As it glanced 
in and out, gliding in ^ half-circle around, lost for an 



275 

instant, tlien sparkling out and skimming on, I almost 
fancied it the eye of some swimming animal searching the 
banks for prey. 

Suddenly it stopped; dwindled, until it glimmered a 
mere grain of light, and then vanished. In a few minutes 
more, a black object skulked close along the bank. Mart 
turned the jack upon it, and a canoe with two Indians 
gleamed forth. 

"Old Leo and t'other Injin," said Mart. "They've 
either got a deer up Wolf Brook and don't want us to 
know 't, or they hevn't and don't want us to know their 
bad luck. But spos'n, as it's so late, and the deer don't 
seem very plenty, we don't hunt no more, but git back to 
camp as sun as we kin ; and. Will, let's hev a song as we 
go ! and let it be what we've bin on to-night, ' Floatin' fur 
Deer.' " 

Will accordingly, as Mart bent to the oars and he to the 
paddle, struck up the following song (altered from the ori- 
ginal). Mart tugging along by his side in gutturals more 
loud than musical : — 

The woods are all sleeping, the midnight is dark ; 
"We launch on the still wave our bubble-like bark ; 
The rifle all ready, the jack burning clear, 
And we brush through the lily-pads, floating for deer, 

Floating for deer. 
And we glide o'er the shallow, boys, floating for deer. 

We turn the low meadow ; — now breathless we skim ; 
That eyel no, the phosphor 1 yon head! no, a limb I 
This step in the stream 1 no, a spring dripping near 1 
Thus we brush through the lily pads, floating for deer, 

Floating for deer. 
Thus we glide o'er the shallow, boys, floating for deer. 

Ton nook 1 spring the locks I the deer's eyeballs of fire ! 
Still, still as a shadow I hush I nigher, yet nigher ! 
Crack, splash I draw him in 1 now away in good cheer, 
Through the lily-pads blithely from floating for deer. 

Floating for deer. 
Back to camp, through the shallow, from floating for deer. 



276 

At length the light of the camp-fire saluted us, and leav- 
ing the two guides busy with the boat, I ascended the 
bank. 

Suffused with the social radiance of the flame, my four 
comrades were seated on the log which served for a camp- 
sofa, each with a glass of what I took, from the fragrance, 
to be punch. 

" Ha, ha, ha ; he, he, he ; ho, ho, ho I" 

" What's the joke, boys ?" 

" Ha, ha, ha ; he, he, he ; ho, ho, ho !" 

" Can't you tell a fellow ? I want to laugh too ! We've 
had pretty good luck, but I'm very cold." 

" Ha, ha, ha ; he, he, he ; ho, ho, ho !" 

What the joke was, I have never learned to this day. 



277 



CHAPTER XXIL 

Setting Pole Rapids left.— Wolf Brook.— Little Wolf and Big Wolf Ponds. 
— Lumber-Road in the Rain. — Picture Pond. — Beaver Meadow. — Maine 
Shanty. 

At dawn we broke up Camp Tamarack. While the 
boats were being prepared for our departure, I wandered a 
short way into the forest by a path that had been bushed 
out to the spring, for a last draught of the delicious water. 
Beyond, I came upon another decayed log-hut. The bark 
roof had fallen away ; the broken and prostrate door was 
nearly buried in herbage, while the area was choked with 
bushes. It had once, doubtless, been the home of some 
hunter or trapper who, with characteristic restlessness, had 
abandoned even this remote spot to plunge into lonelier 
wilds. 

A low whoop from Harvey recalled me to the bank ; we 
all embarked, Corey and Jess leading the way with the 
tent, baggage, and what remained of the stores. 

At the head of Racket Pond we separated ; my comrades 
with their guides turning to the right, up the Racket, on 
their way to Baker's, while I, Harvey and Phin, with 
Watch chained at the bow (Harvey no more went without 
his hound than his rifle), sought Wolf Brook at the left. 
Henceforth we were to travel rapidly, passing through a 
wilderness, a portion of which was but little known, even 
to the guides, pushing on by day and sleeping on the 
ground at night. We were encumbered therefore with no 
luggage or stores we could possibly dispense with, the trip 
being limited to a week, to enable me to rejoin my comrades 
at Baker's previous to their (if not my) departure for home 



278 

Passing through an alley in the rushes, we struck the 
mouth of the brook, and were soon threading the sharp 
windings of the stream. Openings scattered with alders 
and swamp willows lined the banks, yielding soon to the 
usual close forest. Through the green light, the water 
dotted as with golden beetles, with gnats whirling their 
speckled wheels in front, dragon-flies shooting like sapphire 
darts cast right and left by elves, and now and then a bird 
whirring athwart, we went, with oar and paddle. The 
channel grew shallower and more winding, so that only 
Phin's paddle could be used, Harvey and I aiding by pull- 
ing on the branches, like sailors at the ropes. 

At length, the water growing so shallow, Harvey said, 
"We'd better git out at the sand-bank, Mr. Smith, and 
let Phin paddle up to Little Wolf We kin go on foot 
through the woods. It's unly half a mile from the bank 
through, but it's more'n a mile and a half by the brook." 

We accordingly landed on a broad space of sand, at our 
right, where a huge wolf-track had been freshly stamped, 
and entering a cleft in the bushes, we found ourselves in a 
winding deer-path. A labyrinth of stems was round, below 
was a dense undergrowth and above a web of branches. 
Through them fell the scattered light, here in rich spots 
like myriads of yellow butterflies, there in broad patches 
kindling the pine cones, dead leaves, sprouts and ferns into 
lambent flame. Now and then a tree dropped an arch so 
low as to make us dip our heads to pass, or thrust forth a 
green hand as if to tap our breast; and under the che- 
quered light, the forest floor was radiant with the differ- 
ing hues of the lichens, mosses and creeping vines, that 
velveted every rock and log, and threaded every patch of 
earth not covered by the undergrowth. 

After a half hour's walk, we came to an old deserted 
chopping, with black logs, cushioned in blackberry bram- 
bles. We regaled ourselves upon the fruit, and struck soon 
a bend of the brook, crossing it by a little log bridge. 

Again we entered the forest, and shortly emerged upon 



279 

Little Wolf Pond, the first of the chain in our road. Rest- 
ing a moment on a fallen tree at the margin, we started for 
the head, along the sandy edges, printed over with deer 
tracks. Here we sat down and gazed over the expanse, 
which is nearly round and a mile in diameter. Nothing 
appeared on the surface but the brush of a breeze, and 
nothing above but a sailing fish-hawk. The silver sunshine, 
for the sky was thickening, fell pleasantly upon us as we 
lay upon the warm earth, and the scents of the forest were 
delicious. 

At length a boat, with its bow in the air, a hat at its 
stern, and flashes at either side, appeared from the forest 
rim opposite, all which turned out to be Phin, skimming 
rapidly towards us. 

We struck our first carry, and passing a deserted saw- 
mill upon the brook-link between the two ponds, came soon 
upon Big Wolf, where a little bark shanty was crouching 
in the bushes, with " Ring's Camp" scrawled upon its front. 
We drank from a clear spring, at the base of a grassy point, 
which was bare of trees, except a large pine at the tip ; 
and turning the point, we enjoyed a bath in the little 
bay which, rimmed with white sand and clear from the 
usual lilies, rounded into the shore. We then crossed a 
portion of the pond (which is a third larger than Little 
Wolf), and, passing a group of islands, struck the bank, 
where a lumber road had been bushed out for drawing logs 
through the woods. At the edge of the water was another 
deserted camp, a large cedar slanting almost horizontally, 
the sides closed with lopped maple branches, whose wilted 
leaves emitted a pleasant perfume. 

Here began, as Harvey remarked, a mile carry, to a 
small pond without a name, hidden away in the woods, but 
in our direct path. Leaving the two guides to follow with 
the boat, I went on before ; the " dudods," as Harvey called 
the luggage, being placed, with the oars, paddle, and neck- 
yoke, in the boat. Sinking ankle deep in the green morass 
that spread from the margin, and seesawing over the logs, or 



280 

corduroy whicli spanned the deepest parts, we entered the 
forest. Now I stumbled over a great root, coiled in and in 
like a knot of sleeping black snakes, now threshed through 
a barricade of bushes, and now scaled some enormous pine 
fallen athwart. Stumps studded the margin, and chopped 
logs lay parallel, embedded in ferny and shrubby leafage, 
and pointing from the sumacs and hopple bushes like can- 
non-muzzles ; while a dense carpet of various wood-sprouts, 
intermingled with dead leaves, evergreen cones, and dry 
pine-needles covered the dark forest mould. Suddenly 
there sounded a slow, measured dropping, which quick- 
ened, until a steady hum in the green depths told the rain. 
At first, its coolness in the close forest air was delightful, 
but it soon fell so dense that I looked round for shelter. 
The thatch of a slanting cedar offered its protection, but I 
soon discovered, that if in old times 

" Such tents the patriarchs loved," 

they must have loved the tents better than the contents, for 
I soon found mine decidedly leaky. 

A large hollow hemlock, no doubt the winter nest of a 
bear, promised more comfort, and thrusting myself within, 
I looked out protected, upon the scene, and listened to the 
forest roof rumbling in the rain. 

The maple trembled all over as the rapid shot of the 
drops pelted its broad leaves, the pine shook its loose 
tassels as if to repel the rainy attack, but the hemlock only 
twitched his sturdy branches as a dog beset with flies 
twitches his skin. 

Suddenly the sounds ceased, and stepping out, I resumed 
my way amid a throng of loosened odors in the damp, 
bland air. By and by, Harvey and Phin, bearing the boat 
upright, under a layer of spruce, overtook me. Then 
came another shower, more heavy than the first. Dislodg- 
ing the boat of its load, which they covered with more 
boughs, the guides propped it on a brace of stout sticks, 
and lo ! an off-hand shanty, under which we crouched, 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 281 

bidding defiance to tlie torrents. The rounded roof echoed 
to the batterings upon it, splintering the streams into spray. 
Through a narrow front I could only see a breadth of 
quaking undergrowth, with one green log that absorbed 
the rain like a sponge, and a cushion of ferns between two 
roots that slaked itself in it like a duck. 

At length the shower expired of its own violence, and 
another half-hour brought us to the nameless pond. 

A most beautiful liquid gem it was. Opposite rose an 
acclivity of cedars, with a smooth, green headland. At 
the right, and forming a little winding bay, stood a small, 
bare, pyramidal island. The scene was lonely as beauti- 
ful. We crossed, cutting through the sunset colors, and 
entered the bay, which was roofed with foliage. Here and 
there a drop of carmine or a spangle of gold had fallen, or 
a little arrow of light had shot through the woven canopy 
upon the dark water. We returned and skirted the island, 
Harvey pointing out a turtle-bed on its summit. 

We traversed the rich, beamy polish of the pond, which 
I named Picture Pond, with the dabble of Phin's oars 
(Harvey sat idle at the stern) wakening the profound still- 
ness, and landed. 

" I guess we'll leave the boat here," said Harvey. 
" There's a Maine shanty a little ways above here, where 
we kin spend the night. We'll leave the Bluebird here. 
I'll stand bail there's nobody round to be off with her. 
Phin, you're young, you take up the dudods." 

Ascending a ridge, we found ourselves in front of the 
shanty, which was a low, comfortable log cabin. Below, 
at our left, lay a large beaver-meadow, long, narrow, irre- 
gular, with little points of wood jutting into it, and tama- 
racks streaking the edges or grouped like islets in its 
cove-like nooks, and ground cedars planting their dark 
tents picturesquely around. 

In one of these nooks stood two stacks of hay, under 
a low pencil of light, while in the farthest distance a 
quick glitter told of water.- 



282 ' 

For the hundredth time I asked myself, where was the 
farm-house, with the grazing cows, the dotted sheep, the 
yoked oxen dozing in the lane, and the sturdy steeds cross- 
necked in the shade. 

Instead of this rural picture, I saw a deer under a 
lurching tamarack, now feeding, then stopping to look, 
then dropping its head again to the grass. At the same 
time, I caught sight of Harvey, with his rifle, creeping 
from bush to bush, toward it, stealthy as a wild-cat. The 
next, the deer lifted its pointed face ; then, with a gentle 
trot, glided between some cedar thickets, and vanished. 

We now crossed the meadow, to see the remains of an 
old beaver-dam at its head. We passed the little pond 
whose winking eye I had seen, and whose margin was a 
picture-writing of deer-tracks. Ascending a hill spotted 
with thickets, we came upon a low, gently-sloping wall of 
wild grass, which Harvey pronounced the dam. We then 
retraced our steps toward the shanty, turning on the bank 
to gaze at the meadow glowing like green velvet in the 
last rays of the sun, with long black shadows printing its 
surface. The soft look of culture was stronger than ever, 
but all resemblance to civilization there ceased. Instead 
of the crow of chanticleer, the wild cry of a hawk circling 
a dry pine startled the echoes. A grey fox was skulking 
between the golden-tanned haystacks, instead of the house- 
dog, roaming around with his protecting tread; and in 
place of the laden honey-bee seeking the sunset hive, the 
hungry deer-fly threaded the tangle of the wild beaver- 
grass. 

Twilight now rested on the rough clearing before the 
shanty. I sat at the rude porch while Harvey and Phin 
began the night-fire. The evening was close and sultry 
after the rain, and of course it was holiday among the 
musquitoes. Their premonitory symptoms were discernible 
in the actions of Harvey, who was in the clearings gather- 
ing chips (left by the lumbermen) for the fire. Froni that 
staid soberness, not only natural to him, but quite becom- 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 283 

ing in one of his age and experience, I saw him suddenly 
transformed into a daDcing-Jack, At the same time, a 
sting on mj forehead, another on the throat, and a most 
diabolical one inside my pantaloons, showed in earnest 
my time was come. Bred from the beaver meadow, and 
this generation probably never before tasting human blood, 
the musquitoes poured a living torrent. 

At first I pounded myself as much as the little mocking 
fiends could wish, but at length encased myself in the 
mail of philosophic don't-care-ativeness, and " took it" like 
a hero. In fact, I began rather to enjoy the thing, and at 
last took notes. One fellow, I particularly remarked. First, 
he darted across my forehead, then down the cheek, then 
glanced into my eye with an *' Aha I" Next, he sent 
a twang into my ear like the first nip of a fiddle-string, 
then gave a sounding flourish, intensifying it into a fine 
hum, which rang like the buzz of a sharp bell, warning 
me plainly to look out. At last, down pounced the little 
grey -coated, globe-eyed sapper delicately on his elastic, 
long-angled legs, and planted his slender sucking-pump on 
a pore of my hand. I endured the tickling, and watched 
the enormous pouch and transparent, black-ribbed needle 
of a body expanding ruddily, till the elfin marauder, 
gorged to repletion, lifted with difficulty his pump and 
floated sluggishly away. 

Grlancing upward as it flew, I saw with a thrill the new 
moon beaming timidly on the edge of the warm, red west, 
a silver barque upon a ruby sea. 

The dark night now came, blending all objects in one 
general gloom, except within the crimson ring of the camp- 
fire. 

We enjoyed our supper of dried trout and venison, and 
then went into the cabin for rest. There was but one 
room; the board floor was partly broken, showing the 
dark earth below. The shaft of the chimney of stones and 
clay ran up from the centre, and a large, flat, upright stone, 
blackened by fire, with two stone jambs, made the hearth. 



284 

" Them lumber fellows had rousin' times here in the 
winter, fur all they was clearn away from folks," said 
Harvey, as he entered, after lighting his pipe at the fire. 

" They must have had some cold, stormy times in this 
wild spot," remarked I. 

" Yes, the winds bio wed and the snow flew, sometimes, 
but, bless ye, they didn't mind it a bit. I've lumbered it 
myself among 'm. They're jest as tough as a pine-knot, 
them fellers !" 

" Did they cut the hay stacked in the meadow ?" 

'' Sarten ! to fodder their oxen with. But they left the 
next winter fur Big Square Pond, nigh Upper S'nac. But 
as we must be out o' here afore sunrise, what say ye fur 
sleep ? Good night !" 

So saying, he and Phin threw themselves on a bed of 
hay, which the latter had foiind in a little log barn, back 
of the shanty, and I followed, falling into slumber, while 
fancying a wild winter storm thundering through the 
woods and raving round the shanty for entrance. 



1 



265 



CHAPTEK XXIII. 



Path Eesumed. — The Medal. — Musquito Pond. — Eawlins Pond. — Floodwood 
Pond.— The Sable. — A. Network of Ponds.— Long Pond.— The Cranes. — 
Slang Pond. — Turtle Pond. — Hoel's Pond.— Boat Left. — Through the 
Woods. — Beaver Meadows. — Beaver Signs. — Beaver Pond. — Beaver 
Houses. — A Beaver. — The Bivouac. 



The grey of the early daybreak was struggling in the air, 
as I was aroused by Harvey, who, with Phin, had already 
brought the boat from the pond. My first plunge into the 
atmosphere was like a cold bath ; I was refreshed in an 
instant. The stars were fading, and the confused woods 
becoming momentarily clearer, as we resumed our road, 
which shortly brought us to another pond, smaller than the 
last and almost perfectly round, which I named " The 
Medal." Crossing it, the next water in our chain was 
Musquito Pond, with a mile carry, the least known of any 
in our path. No signs of a track met our eyes, and the 
guides decided to leave the Bluebird and push on with me 
to the pond, over the best path to be found, then return 
and transport the boat. Long and toilsome was our way 
through the tangled and trackless woods, but at last the 
shining level of the pond broke through the trees ; and leav- 
ing me in a little green dingle on the margin, with "Watch 
for company, my guides went back. 

The scene, after they had left, was as utterly lonely and 
wild as could be imagined. The shores, unlike those of 
the other lakes and ponds in this alpine region, were low, 
belted with swamp and disfigured with dead, ghastly trees. 

Although I am a lonely man by nature, habit and choice, 
shrinking from mankind instinctively as from a blow, yet as 



286 WOODS AND waters; 

this profoundly desolate scene smote my sight, I felt a 
weight deeper than I had ever experienced in the forest. 

Watch looked up into my face ; cocked his ear inquiringly, 
as if to say, " What d'ye think of it round here ?" Then 
he dropped his jaw and panted the pantomime for " Eather 
hot!" snapping this way and that to suggest, " Flies plaguy 
thick !" A short, rapid laugh, under his breath, probably 
at my woe-begone looks, followed, till at length he fixed 
his head between his paws and winked himself to sleep. 

On the pond a couple of copperhead ducks, their brown 
necks shining in the light, were steering out, and soon 
vanished in the dazzling glare midway. Then a raven 
slowly flapped over, and then a kingfisher, settling on a 
dry limb, threw a bit of rich color on the mirror below. 

At last I fell into a day-dream, only broken by a whim- 
per from Watch, and looking in the direction his nose 
pointed, I saw at my distant right Harvey and Phin emerg- 
ing from the forest with the boat. They skimmed rapidly 
to where I stood and took in myself and the hound. Cross- 
ing the length of the dismal sheet, we then passed over a 
dry open ridge of a few rods, and embarked upon Rawlins' 
Pond at the head of a long narrow bay with an arm pene- 
trating the woods at our right. 

" This pond's the head waters, through Fish Creek, of 
the three S'nac Lakes and S'nac River," said Harvey 
while passing an island he named to me as Camp Island. 
" Fish Creek," continued he, " is a string o' ponds, and 
throws an all-fired big batch o' water in Upper S'nac, about 
three quarters of a mile from its head." 

Passing three other islands, and crossing northerly a 
distance three times the extent of Musquito Pond, we 
landed on the left, at the foot of the pond, where the swift, 
rocky outlet brawled forth into the forest. Here, sur- 
mounting another ridge of six or seven rods, we launched 
into Floodwood Pond, linked to Rawlins by the outlet. 

It was about the same size as the latter, and lay in a gene- 
ral easterly direction. Pointing north-easterly we passed a 



287 

small island, and leaving at our left another and larger 
(called by Harvey, Beaver Island), we glided along a third 
one still larger. We had passed midway, when, suddenly. 
Watch, who had been all along curled up at Harvey's feet, 
rose on his haunches, and jerking his ears, looked narrowly 
at a small maple on the bank. 

" Down, Watch ! what are ye pointin' that nose o' yourn 
out there fur ? Down with ye or I'll " 

Watch melted away. In a moment after, however, he 
sprang, this time to his feet, with a yelp, still gazing at 
the same place. 

" What's he seein', Phin ?" asked Harvey. 

"I dunno as I kin tell," commenced Phin, settling his 
oars in the water. 

" I do though !" broke in the former, throwing his paddle 
into the boat, dropping a sounding knock as he did so on 
poor Watch's skull (who complained by a dismal howl), 
then catching his rifle to his shoulder and firing. " Saples 
aint so mighty plenty that I kin afford to let one go, even if 
't aint in season." Then driving the boat to the margin, he 
stepped on shore, and soon returned, bringing a dead 
animal with a white head and coat of light tawny fur, 
large hind quarters and bushy tail ; which he handed me 
for inspection. 

" The nicest and most valyble fur in the woods," con- 
tinued he. " I've telled ye afore how we ketch 'm. I 
drive sometimes a fust trade best in this fur, as well as 
what I git from fisher and mink, to say nothin' o' rats. 
But about these ere ponds we're crossin'. The whull region 
is as full o' ponds as the ponds is o' lily-pads a'most. Now, 
i a leetle south o' here, p'intin' from Kawlins torts Big Square 
' Pond to the east, there's Whey Pond, and a leetle one that 
hasn't no name. Furder from here, torts Fish Creek waters, 
is Otter Pond and Buttermilk Pond. Then up west and 
north, a mile or two, is two or three more ponds, and north 
o' Long Pond is Eainbow Pond. You can't go amiss scurce, 
and reck'nin' in the lakes and streams, may go ennywheres 



288 WOODS AND 

a'most in your boat, with a few carries. But here we are 
at the end of the pond, with a carry of half a mile afore us 
inter Long Pond." 

Day was creeping low as we crossed the carry, and he 
had thrown a golden path over the pond as we struck it 
midway its winding three-mile length. 

We had gone nearly through when, turning a point, a 
deafening clamor and a novel sight saluted us. 

In a low marshy spot, hundreds of cranes were running, 
walking, hovering, darting through the air, and cleaving 
spirally upward until almost invisible, and then swooping 
downward on their broad sails, their plumage flashing white 
in the sunset. The voices were prodigious, and quite pecu- 
liar. One who seemed the stump orator to the crowd, 
standing some four feet on his pins, was, at the moment of 
our arrival, making a speech at the top of his harsh voice 
and stamping his foot as if to emphasize it. 

As we passed, the whole flock, seemingly unable longer 
to restrain their fire, broke in upon the harangue, with, as 
it were, three cheers and a tiger. Even as far off as the 
carry, the echoes were in a flutter, from the tall orator's 
eloquence. The name of the next pond struck me as 
appropriate in the highest degree to stump speeches in 
general. 

" Slang Pond," said Harvey, as the inlet, in the form of 
a bow, received our boat. Through its half mile channel 
we went, in the golden glow succeeding the sundown, the 
rustle of our way amid the continuous lily-pads of the upper 
end, sounding like a shower in the woods. 

" The next is Turtle Pond," remarked he, as we entered 
a little, swift, gravelly stream. " and the outlet here, after 
about three rods, brings us inter it. It lays straight along 
about a mile, has a waist jest like a woman, and hasn't no 
lily -pads 't all to speak of" 

I found the comparison just. We traversed the sheet in 
the " gloaming ;" and as we crossed the last carry, between 
us and Hoel's Pond, Harvey and Phin bearing the boat on 



289 

the same shoulder they had from the beginning, so that I 
thought the spot must, by this time, be grooved, the woods 
began to grow dusky. 

The night had quite settled down, with the crescent 
moon too faint for light, as the guides woke with oar and 
paddle the breathing silence of Hoel's. Gliding for some 
distance in the ambrosial dark of the air, and over the star- 
sprinkled ebony of the water, we landed on what appeared 
a point, penetrating far into the pond. 

Soon the blaze, kindled by my guides, stripped the dark- 
ness from the scene, showing our camping spot to be indeed 
a long tongue of the mainland. The light threw a scarlet 
over the backs of the old logs at the margin, blushed on 
the bushes covering the point, and reddened the stars from 
out the sable water. 

Our simple supper ended, overcome by fatigue we 
stretched ourselves in our blankets on the grass, with our 
feet to the camp-fire ; and under the cool stars, and lulled 
by the natural sounds of our wild bivouac, the gentle talk 
of the ripples to the sand, the murmur of the night wind 
through the leaves and the fitful chirping of some wakeful 
bird, we resigned ourselves to slumber. 

Day was just breaking as I awoke. A chill, misty 
air was flowing through the woods and curdling the 
water. 

My guides had already dragged the boat over the point 
to the eastern of the pond's two divisions and we shortly 
struck the opposite shore. Here we were to leave the Blue- 
bird and take up our line of march through the forest to 
the beaver waters, several miles to the east. We accord- 
ingly hid the boat in one hollow log, and to prevent the 
) use of it, if found, hid the oars and paddle in another. 
' Harvey shouldered his rifle which supported a coarse check 
sack with half our stores, and a small camp-kettle, while 
his left hand grasped his axe. 

Phin carried a knapsack of leather, containing the rest 
of the stores, and his rifle, with Watch buckled to his waist 

13 



290 

by a long strap. I avoided all encumbrance, anticipating 
truly a toilsome tramp. 

We then started, Harvey leading the way, Phin follow- 
ing close in his footsteps, and I bringing up the rear. 

An aisle between a colonnade of trunks, invited us 
through its grassy length. We then ascended a somewhat 
open ridge, or " hog's-back," continued upon it for a con- 
siderable distance, and then descended. The woods grew 
darker and wilder. The underbrush deepened. Decayed 
logs more thickly blocked the way. Harvey began to 
hack the trees on either side, making what in woodcraft is 
known as a " blazed line." 

At every step, I could see we were piercing deeper and 
deeper into the wildest, loneliest recesses of this wild and 
lonely wilderness. The great trees stood round in myriads 
upon myriads, with smaller ones between, bewildering the 
eyesight ; the ground entangled with the densest growth, 
which almost buried the fallen trunks, patriarchs of the 
forest, that had been undermined by age or hurled flat by 
storms. Now and then a broad tract of laurels over which 
rose dead tamaracks and cedars, warning the foot not to 
enter its blinding and treacherous depths, or an immense 
labyrinth of prostrate trees, all twisted and interlaced, 
showing where some tornado had whirled, sent us widely 
from our course. Wilder and wilder grew our way. Here 
and there a broken sunbeam lay athwart the higher branches 
of a pine or hemlock, or a long spear-like ray reached to 
a bush, or its splintered point sprinkled the innumerable 
woodsprouts, but the general tone of light was grey and 
sombre. The leaves of the forest's summit frequently flut- 
tered in passing currents, but below was a stagnant quiet. 
No sound could be heard, save the sharp hack of Harvey's 
axe, or the " uggle-uggle" of the crossing raven, that might 
well be deemed some flying ghoul of the sepulchral re- 
cesses. 

Nature showed herself, not in the fresh loveliness of her 
sylvan haunts, but as if borne down by the weight of cen- 



291 

turies ; and was mouldering silently and sullenly away, 
under a mantle of moss that clothed rock, log, bank, 
and hollow, clung in great patches on the trees and was 
so intermingled with the dank, rotten leaves upon the 
earth, as to nearly overlay their umber hues. The sunken 
streams, crawling under logs and between rocky crevices, 
burrowed at times underneath this mossy screen, flashing 
out here and there like a deer's eye from ambush. 

Threshing through bushes, scaling enormous logs, slip- 
ping and tumbling over roots, tripping among tough creep- 
ing plants, plunging headlong into thickets and falling to 
the waist in mossy cavities, on we went. Now and then, 
a bear-path showing punctures of the huge creature's claws, 
or a light deer trail, was seen, but it was quickly lost, and 
all became trackless as before. The inequalities of the 
ground too, heightened my fatigue. Now a ridge forced 
us to cling to the branches, in laboring up ; the steep de- 
scent proving more toilsome still. We paused, however, 
frequently, to drink at some lurking spring, bared by 
scooping out the dead leaves, thus resting my tired limbs 
a moment ; but soon forward again was the word, for my 
guides seemed men of iron. 

" 'Tisn't like floatin' down the Eacket, is't, Mr. Smith?" 
said Harvey, as trembling with fatigue, I grasped a bough 
to keep from sinking to the earth. "But take some o' this," 
cutting a portion of gum from a pine with his axe; " 'twill 
make yer stronger, and keep yer from being so dreffle dry. 
This drinkin' at all the springs, on a tramp like this, isn't 
the best thing in the world. It makes yer, after all, unly 
more tired." 

"Look a' here!" said he, a little farther, pointing at 
some gashes in several stems. " See where the confounded 
bears Ve stuck their teeth inter the bark and wood, and 
here they've scratched with their sharp claws, and here 
they've twisted off the limbs with them paws o' their'n. 
They're a plaguy wild brute, them bears, as bad as a mad 
moose a'most, when they're ugly." 



292 WOODS AND waters; 

We crossed one more ridge, and turning another ledge, 
saw water glancing brokenly through the trees. 

*' The fust o' the St. Kegis Ponds," said Harvey, and in 
a few moments a most lovely pond gleamed in the sunshine 
before us. Sheer to the edge came its circle of forest, save 
where one small headland, green as an emerald, rounded 
into the water. Once more did I notice with delight, the 
shrubbery -like grouping of the thickets. Streaks of cedars 
also wound along as if the hand of taste had guided 
them. I stepped on the back of a log, lying, like a gigantic 
lizard, far into the water, and drank in the beautiful 
picture. 

In the middle was a loon, drawing a track of silver, and 
sounding incessantly his bugle note, awaking a thousand 
echoes. 

" What is the name of this pond, Harvey?" 

Keceiving no answer, I turned to the old guide, and 
repeated the question. I was struck with the expression 
of his face. It was blank and puzzled. He exchanged 
glances with Phin ; both retired a little, and conversed in 
low tones. Harvey pointed in several directions, and 
swept his arm round with a keen, but doubtful look. At 
length they returned ; Harvey looking up and down the 
pond, and glancing back the way we came. 

" Confess, now, Harvey," said I. " You don't know 
where you are." 

" Well, I must say, Mr. Smith — that is, I b'leeve — I 
kinder think — I dunno but that — that — hem." 

" In other words, you're lost." 

•'Well, I vow, things does look a leetle queer to me, 
around here. I can't 'zactly git straight. Strannge too. 
I've ketched fur and killed ven'son on the St. Kegis waters 
year after year, and yit, somehow, I — a — a — I don't" 

" Know where you are," added I. 

" Well — a — I dunno — as I ever — see this pond afore." 

"Why, Harvey! what shall we do? How many miles 
have we travelled, and how long will it take us to get out 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 293 

of these terrible woods, supposing we are lost," said I, 
breaking into a heat with my apprehensions. 

" Well, ef we kept right straight along, I rayther guess 
we could scratch out after about — I say about — forty miles 
travel." 

" Forty miles !" exclaimed I, starting; " forty miles — the 
Lord deliver us!" 

" W-a-a-1, mebby a leetle less ; mebby not more'n thirty- 
five or six — that is, ef we go ahead. But we might turn 
back, that is, ef I knowed 'zactly where back is. I b'leeve 
I'm kinder turned round. It's very queer ! I've not 
unly trapped here, but I've bin guide all through these 
woods some years ago to a pairty o' surveyors, when they 
run the line o' Township Twenty. Well, I am beat! an 
old woodsman like me, too. What kin this pond be !" 

" Heavens ! that I should ever have been such a fool to 
come out here after beaver !" groaned I, sinking on a log. 

*' Don't give up so, Mr. Smith," said Harvey, who had 
started down the pond to a curve, and returned. " I aint 
dead yit. And somehow or other — -jest let's go down the 
pond a leetle. Down there, torts the outlet." 

" Ef it turns out there as I expect," continued he as we 
went down, '' I'm all right. I think I've trapped on that 
outlet ; but as fur this pond ! — it's strannge I shouldn't a 
come upon't. But we'll see — we'll see." 

With many misgivings I tramped along with him, and 
arrived at last beyond the curve, at a sharp oxbow, where 
the pond was completely hidden. 

*' All right," said Harvey. *' I'm as right as a book. 
Here's the very place I footed a fisher three year ago next 
October. After that, I started straight fur hum, and never 
see the pond. Yes, yes, it's all right now !" 

I need not say I felt relieved, and with a lighter step I 
again followed my guides. 

A mile farther, and we came upon a small beaver- 
meadow, with grass waist deep, and shortly after a second, 
through which we also waded. At the edges of this we 



294 

noticed the first beaver signs. Saplings, and even con- 
siderable trees were cut asunder by the teeth of the animal. 
The edges were black with age, and chiselled irregularly 
to a point. Again we entered the forest ; and in a little 
while a third meadow, with borders full also of chiselled 
signs, immersed us. 

We now ascended a comparatively open pine-ridge, 
whence at either hand shone glimpses of water. 

" There's ponds on all sides," said Harvey, " and all on 
'm used to be great places fur beaver ; but they're sich a 
shy, timorsome thing, they're most on 'em cleared out. 
Some's left, though ; and ef we don't see them, we'll see 
their housen, as I said afore, and 'twont be a very long 
time nuther. There's otter sign, too, here ! See the slides 
o' the critters !" pointing to discernible paths down the 
declivities, which were slippery with the dead pine foliage. 

Descending the farther point of the ridge, we struck off 
at our left, and soon came to the sloping border of a beau- 
tiful little pond, where a narrow stream flowed out through 
a natural meadow. 

" The pond that the beaver housen is on is jest back o' 
this," said Harvey, pointing diagonally with his left hand ; 
" and after we've had a bite o' suthin' we'll go there. It 
isn't over half-an-hour's walk," opening his knapsack in 
the grass of the little dingle where we had halted. 

And here let me whisper that cold pork and baked 
beans, although homely and possibly vulgar in some eyes, 
are two of the standing dishes of the forest. The former 
is particularly grateful to the palate, after being cloyed 
with trout and venison, and the latter is like solidified 
cream, crumbling in the mouth in brittle and mellow 
richness. 

These, with dried deer's flesh (we saw the last of our 
smoked trout at Hoel's) and biscuit, strewed on the wild 
grass of the spot, formed our meal. 

" I've trapped beaver in these ponds fur thirty year, off 
and on," said Harvey, " but the unly fam'ly left now is on 



295 

that pond out there torts Catamount Mountain (pointing 
to a near, dark summit among a group of hill- tops rising 
above the woods), where the housen is. I've kinder nussed 
'm along, and never take more'n two at a time. There 
isn't another feller in the whull S'nac region that knows 
about this pond but me. Phin, here, don't know it, nur 
Will, nor Mart, nur enny on 'm. I've al'ys gone alone, 
and kept my own secrets. But you'll know it sun, and" — 

Here he broke short off, glanced his keen eye toward 
the outlet, snatched his rifle from the grass with one hand, 
and stopped a yelp from Watch by a blow with the other, 
and swiftly, but cautiously, descended the slope leading to 
the water. As Phin grasped Watch round the nose, thus 
effectually sealing another yelp, I glanced in the direction 
indicated by the eyes of both, and saw a deer gliding 
between the thickets of the wild meadow, toward the out- 
let. Crawling like a snake from bush to bush, Harvey 
went nearer and nearer. At last he fired. The deer, 
however, did not fall, neither did it swerve from its course 
toward the stream. It probably had never before heard 
the report of a gun, and took this for one of the natural 
sounds to which it was accustomed. But a second crack 
from Harvey's double-barrel came, and the animal, who 
had just stooped his graceful neck to drink, fell in his 
tracks. Phin and I, followed by Watch, who poured out 
a torrent of cries, overtook Harvey as he was wading the 
outlet, and we all reached in a twinkling the spot of long 
grass where the deer had fallen. He was a two-year-old 
buck, and in excellent condition. My guides shouldered 
him, and all returned to our dingle, merry with our luck. 

" We'll let 'im lay there," said Harvey, after he and Phin 
had deposited the animal on a bank of moss, " till we come 
back from the beaver housen. I don't bleeve enny painter 
or wolf '11 git 'im the short time we're away." 

We rounded the pond, and after the toilsome ascent and 
descent of a ridge, reached at last a small sheet of water 
lurking among acclivities, and sleeping so dark and still in 



296 

their shadows, Nature seemed to have forgotten it as soon as 
formed. Plunging through the dense underbrush, which 
not only heaped the margin, but tangled for some distance 
the water, we came at length to a little opening in the 
foliage. 

" Here's the fust of the two housen," said Harvey, paus- 
ing before an object standing on the very edge of the 
water, " but the ruflp's all to pieces. You kin see though 
how 'twas made inside." 

It was a fractured mound of smooth clay, about two feet 
high, and six across, inside which were layers of water-lily 
leaves. A roof had been over it, made of broken sticks 
that lay around, smeared with dried mud. 

" Them pads is where the beavers lay," said Harvey, 
" and unly a few days ago too. You see they're fresh ! 
Some bear or other has come along and made the house 
fly with his tearin' big paws. They're apt to do it to git at 
the beaver, and they've skeered 'm clearn away. I hope 
they've left t'other house alone. It's much bigger 'an this. 
Beaver, Mr. Smith, is like the rich folks in the big settle- 
ments, sich as York is, I spose. I've never seen any place 
bigger 'n Burlin'ton, and Plattsburgh and Keeseville, and 
Liz'bethtown, and so on, but onst, and that was when I 
straggled down to Troy with a load o' fur, and nice fur 
they was too. There was fisher, and saple, and mink, to 
say nothin' o' rats in fust best order. Well, I went there 
and come back too, mighty quick. I thought I'd choke to 
death, the housen was so cluss t'gether, and the air so 
kinder thickened up. And then the people a-flyin' about ! 
'Twas some great day or other — a p'litical meetin' I bleeve 
— and some feller was a-goin' to tell what his idees was on 
matters in gin'ral, the Gov'nor or some other big bug! 
what was that chap's name ! well, no matter, I heerd it too 
at the time. But there was sich a pressin' and pullin' and 
haulin', and so many folks jammed up t'gether, that I went 
to the tavern, settled with the landlord right off, and started 
a-foot out o' the confounded hole, and tramped on till night 



297 

come, when I camped in a piece o' woods jest outside a 
village till mornin' and then made tracks torts old Cham- 
plain fur the steamboat to Keeseville. Wasn't I glad to git 
back to S'nac agin ? I tell ye ! But where was I ? oh — the 
beavers has their city house and their country house, one 
fam'ly gin'rally to a pond. This was their country house. 
But s'posen' we move torts t'other. 

" Here's more sign," continued he, pointing to a quan- 
tity of saplings gnawed asunder like those we first saw, 
" and a good part on 'm fresh. The beavers is here, but 
where, at this partic'lar p'int o' time, is more'n I kin say." 

We struggled along the pond's edge once more, until at 
last Harvey ascended a fallen tree, and stepping downwards, 
said — 

" Here's t'other hut, and all right and tight too, thank 
fortin'." 

I scrambled across the barricade, and saw what I first 
took to be a collection of driftwood, partly on the bank and 
partly over the water. I stepped upon it. It was a 
rounded fabric, fifteen or twenty feet in diameter, wrought 
of dry saplings and water-grass, welded together smoothly 
with dried mud. An extra roof of long loose poles was 
placed upon the top, making the projection over the shal- 
low. 

The fabric itself rested on the bank, and before it, heap- 
ing the bottom of the shidlpw, were stems of small trees. 

" The beaver lays round the sides, inside o' this Dutch 
oven, on sep'rit beds," said Harvey. " They don't gin'rally 
stay in their housen in summer though, but roam about. 
The wood in the water's what they feed on. A good deal 
on't 's moose-missee that they're most fond of, with birch, 
wilier, and water-maple mixed in. They haul the stuff 
down with their teeth, and then stick it to the bank some- 
way. I've never seen 'm make their housen but I've hearn 
tell how. They gnaw the trees down, haul 'm to the water, 
and plaster mud over 'm with their forepaws, and some 
Bay they smooth it over with their flat tails." 



298 WOODS AND WATEKS; 

'' Well," continued the old woodman, after I had lingered 
over the localities some little time, " we've seen all here, 
and I guess we may as well be movin'. A ven'son steak 
wouldn't be bad to take after we git back, would it ? Ef 
I could unly put a beaver's tail now by it, 'twould be rael 
old hunderd. But, goll, look at that !" suddenly pointing 
to the pond. 

Upon it I saw part of a dark head, a mere dot, skimming 
rapidly along, and approaching a small grassy point. 

" There's a beaver by golly ! and I mean to hev't too," 
continued the old guide, raising his rifle, but at the very 
instant the head vanished behind the point. 

" Ah, it's gone !" added he in a disappointed tone. " So 
we might as well trudge on fur all the beaver's tail we'll 
git, this time enny how." 

The west was on fire with the sunset, and the woods 
were sounding with the flute of the Saranac Nightingale as 
we re-entered our dingle. The guides prepared our supper 
of toasted venison, and after we had taken it they built a 
framework of poles over the fire to dry the remainder of 
the deer. 

The trees crept into the night ; the pond winked and 
glimmered into a dark-grey dimness, save where a portion 
glowed softly to the young moon, which had filled with 
silver her fairy shell over Catamount mountain. Seated on 
a root, I watched the dark forms of my guides flitting 
athwart the fire as they superintended the drying of their 
venison, and listened to the low tones of their talk. No 
other sound disturbed the silence. 

At length the guides left their venison to harden in the 
smoke throughout the night, levelled a small hemlock, 
made a bed of its fringes, and close, as usual, to the camp- 
fire we lay down side by side, wrapped in our blankets, I 
for one soon passing into the shadowy realm of dreams. 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 299 



CHAPTER XXiy. 



Return Path. — Clamshell Pond. — Song-birds. — Beaver-dam. — Beaver-talk. — 
Absence of Serpents. — Hoel's Pond. — Carry. — Green Pond. — UPPER SA- 
RAN AC. — Eagle. — Water-thatch. — Tommy's Rock. — Goose Island. — Har- 
vey's Opinion of Neighbors. — Phin's Idea of Subordination. — The Loons. — 
Loon Talk. 



Dawn was peeping with his aslien face through the trees, 
as I awoke. I sat upon the half-burned log of the blinking 
camp-fire, watching my guides completing their arrange- 
ments to start, and, from my yesterday's fatigue, dreading 
the signal. At length, Harvey and Phin had shouldered 
their knapsacks and rifles, and hung all their articles around 
them, and " All's right, Mr. Smith !" came from the former. 
I rose, and our return line of march was taken up. As I 
turned a thicket, I cast a last look at the dingle. There 
was the framework, there the green couch of hemlock 
branches. I caught a farewell flash from the pond, and 
then left the camp-fire to blink itself to death, and silence 
and solitude to settle on the spot, as profound as when we 
first invaded it. 

We had not gone far before Harvey paused at a pine 
tree. 

" Here was one o' my fisher traps," said he, pointing at 
a pole slanting upward from the ground at the root. " I 
footed two on 'm the week I was here last fall." 

Again over ridge and hollow, plunging into mossy clefls, 
dashing aside low branches, wading through underbrush, 
with short stoppages for rest. Again, stooping to drink at 
some streak of a runnel nearly choked in fern, picking the 
blisters of gum from the pine ^o refresh the lips, stumbling 



300 

among sharp hidden rocks, and vaulting over prostrate 
trees. Here, a cedar colonnade received us, smooth to the 
foot, balsamic to the scent; there, a miry bog, shaking like 
quicksilver as we crossed. 

Again Harvey paused, this time before a decayed stump. 

" Here I had a wolf- trap, chained round. It had a snap 
like a gunlock. I come one mornin', and found old claw- 
tooth had the biggest kind o' wolf in the tightest kind o' 
place. Massy, how he grinned, and clicked his jaws ! You 
could a heerd it a quarter of a mile. He was farse for fight, 
his neck and back a bristlin' like a porkypine. I wonder 
he hadn't gnawed his paw off. Didn't I send a ball straight 
through that skull o' his'n, right 'twixt his eyes ? His skin 
and sculp fetched me five dollars I" 

We now turned a little off from our course, on both sides 
of which I recognised Harvey's blazes of the day before, 
to visit Clamshell Pond, where were the remains, as the old 
guide said, of a large beaver-dam. The water-gleam soon 
shot between the trees, and we made our way to the 
margin. The surface, on which a little breeze was dancing, 
spread blue and cool to the sunny morning sky, the water- 
lilies glittered, the rushes trembled, the forest leaves sparkled 
as with stars, and a general gladness brightened the scene. 

There is a prevalent idea that songsters in these woods 
are wanting. This to an extent is true. Still many of our 
rural birds are here. Their colors flash in the broken sun- 
light, and their notes pierce the sweeping verdure, but the 
restless eye and the open ear of the lovers of nature alone 
detect them. To others, their shapes are unseen in the 
dim vastness, and their tones are unnoticed amid the voices 
of the larger and more infrequent of the feathered race 
here found. 

The Saranac Nightingale is, however, an exception. 
The loud, clear, triumphal music of this lonely bird claims 
the ear, amid the shriek of the eagle, the croak of the raven, 
the whoop of the crane, the boom of the bittern, and shout- 
ing of the loon. 



OE, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 301 

In the moist sand of the margin I noticed a swarm of 
deer prints, with here and there the broad track of the bear 
and panther. Presently the guides, who had left me to 
turn a bend of the pond, reappeared with a quantity of 
beautifully tinted shells, which give the water its name. 

The beaver dam was a rod or two from the pond. It 
was a long, low mound of earth, broad at bottom and nar- 
row at top, overgrown with grass and shrubs, with the usual 
meadow before it. 

We seated ourselves upon the dam. The green round 
of the meadow looked pleasant and soft in the circle of the 
forest ; insects were chirping, and the warm air was full of 
fragrance. 

" D'ye see them alley ways ?" said Harvey; "you kin jest 
spy 'em now ! They was the roads the beaver had 'twixt 
the pond that stood where this meader is now, and the 
big pond there. They used 'm to travel 'twixt the two, 
and to haul the wood they fed on to the housen here. 
They're an awful knowin' critter. When they want to 
change a place for another where there's more o' the sort 
o' wood they like to feed on, or when some on 'm want 'er 
to go off — pull up stakes as 'twere, jest like the b'ys of a 
fam'ly goin' off to Californy, or out West, to seek their 
fortius like — one on 'm goes ahead and marks out the p'ints 
o' compass he goes, by leavin' heaps o' mud along, scented up 
with castor or bark-stone, as we call it ; so there's the track 
all marked out like a blazed line o' trees, with these castor 
beds. 

" There's another kind o' these queer fish, called bank 
beaver. They don't make no housen, but burrow in the 
banks o' the ponds, like jnushrats. But we must be goin'." 

I picked a beautiful wild flower from the grassy dam, 
and we all then pressed onward. After another hour's 
struggle, I found, to my dismay, that my strength was fail- 
ing. Lagging behind, my guides were frequent^ lost sight 
of, but as I checked my footsteps in doubt where to go, the 
direction was given by a low whoop from Harvey, or a 



302 

clink of his rifle against the eamp-kettle. In these pauses, I 
was more and more impressed with the utter savageness of 
the scene, and my entire helplessness should I be left alone. 
The few paths, if not of deer, could only be of bear, wolf, 
or panther, and tended doubtless toward their fearful 
haunts. The deep marks on the trees, cutting into the 
wood, were more frequent than those of yesterday, and I 
shuddered at the thought of the merciless fangs that made 
them. 

There was one thought, however, from which I derived 
comfort, assured of its truth by all the guides : I could 
plant my feet anywhere in the wilderness — in the deep 
grass, the crumbling trunk, or the rocky cavity — without 
fear of noxious serpents. 

" Ef them infarnal critters — copperheads and rattle- 
snakes, and sich like — was about in these 'ere woods," said 
Harvey, once, in conversing on the subject, " a feHer about 
my size, for one, would be scurce there. A man mought 
as well die at oust as be skeered to death. But the long, 
cold winters doos the business up fur them divils." 

My every step was at last more and more painful. I 
tottered with weakness, and was obliged, at times, to pull 
myself forward by the branches, and even by the trees them- 
selves. On every ridge I looked for the expected sparkle 
of Hoel's Pond, but was disappointed. In fact, I began 
almost to fancy the pond gifted with a fiendish trick of 
receding as I advanced. At last, on the brow of an accli- 
vity, I caught a watery twinkle, and heard, with a flash of 
delight, from Harvey, 

" There's Hoel's !" 

We found the boat, oars, and paddle, safe in the hollow 
logs, and very shortly we were afloat. It was with more 
pleasure than I care to acknowledge that I felt the smooth 
glide of the little Bluebird in exchange for the toilsome 
tramping of the woods. We passed the tip of the tongue 
near the base of which we had camped before our plunge 
into the beaver recesses, and after a delightful sail we 



303 

landed on the soutliern bank, where a huge root grasped 
the smooth bank like a gigantic claw. 

" The carry 'twixt this and Green Pond, the next water 
in our way," said Harvey, " is rayther long — half a mile, 
mebby — but it's a nice, dry, open one, as good a'most as 
the Injin Carry." 

Inflamed by this flattering contrast to the roughness of 
my late path, and considerably renovated by the passage over 
the pond, I insisted upon bearing the camp-kettle, and at 
least one of the oars, across fhe carry. Harvey, complaining 
of a touch of " rheumatiz in the small o' the back," directed 
Phin to shoulder the boat while he loaded himself with 
the ''dudods." 

We then started, the latter loping ahead with blankets, 
overcoats, two knapsacks, two rifles, and a basket, with 
Phin lurching just behind, in a haze of musquitoes, his 
head and shoulders extinguished in the huge chapeau of 
his upturned boat, and threatening to run into his sire's 
back at every stagger. 

At first I stepped with considerable elasticity ; but toward 
the end, such was my weakened strength from my tramp, 
that my oar had the weight of a pine-tree, and the kettle 
bore down, as if to drag me not only to, but into, the earth 
at every tread. 

Lovely Green Pond, with waters that seemed distilled 
from the foliage around them, next received us, and cross- 
ing its half mile extent, we came to the last carry between 
us and the Upper Saranac. 

This was brief, a few minutes bringing us to a little 
clearing of logs and raspberry bushes, in which stood a 
deserted Maine shanty, with a cloud of swallows twittering 
around its eaves. Winding down the bank, through tall 
wood-plants, we pushed our boat into Spring Pond, and 
rippled through a water so clear, I could trace the lithe 
ribbons of the numberless white water-lilies down to the 
large, rough stems at the bottom. 

The reds of the upturned white lily-pads, glowing like 



304 

live coals in the slanted sun, spoke vociferously of deer- 
feasts, eliciting loud laments from both Harvey and Phin, 
that the moon would rob them of a night hunt. One cove 
in particular, at the right, was pointed out by the former 
as " old hunderd fur floatin'." 

We emerged into Spring Pond Bay, and at length the 
noble expanse of the Upper Saranac opened before us. 

It la}^ more than a league in breadth, with three islands 
— one a mere speck of rock — alone in sight. 

As we glided along, a splendid black eagle caught my 
eye, flying over the lake. 

Now he skimmed onward, dipping his stately wings on 
either side ; then he poised himself, remaining motionless 
a moment, and then up, up he mounted — a speck, a dot, a 
pin-point, and was gone. 

Such, I thought, is the flight of genius. In its proud 
disdain, its conscious power, onward it directs its kingly 
flight, onward and upward, high above mortal ken, to its 
cloudy pinnacle. 

" The water- thatch out there makes pipe-stems that's 
parfect inkstand to smoke with," said Harvey, bringing 
my heroics flat, and pointing to a space of tall rushes. 
Pushing among them, we gathered a quantity of the long, 
jointed tubes, which I afterwards found fully equal to the 
eulogy of the old boatman. 

We landed upon the farthest isle. It sloped steeply up 
from the water, covered with grass and whortleberry- 
bushes, and scattered thickly with trees. 

Westward rose the rocky islet, and gleaming in the sun, 
it looked, as Harvey once said, like a turtle on the water. 

" Tommy's Rock," said Harvey, in answer to my look ; 
" and this we're on is Goose Island." 

" Goose Island !" I exclaimed. '' ISTo, no ! Wild Goose, 
at any rate, if there must be a goose in the name !" 

" Alter it as you like, Mr. Smith. There's one thing 
that's a fact ! 'Twould puzzle the smartest I'yer in York 
or Albany to find a tame goose about! How of 'en I've 



805 

camped here," he continued, as we ascended the acclivity, 
*' ketchin' fur along these waters. It's so nice and lone- 
some, I al'ays try to git here when night comes, 'cause I'm 
pretty sarten there's no one to trouble me." 

" Do you like to be away from people, Harvey?" 

" Well, I like, as agin'ral thing, to be alone, 'specially when 
I'm huntin' or trappin'. When I'm fishin', it's no great 
matter." 

*' I shouldn't think you'd be troubled with neighbors 
anywhere in these woods." 

" There's no tellin' ! Sometimes you may be campin' in 
sight a'most o' somebody without you're knowin' it, the 
woods is so al-mighty thick, and then the fellers come 
snoopin' about, talkin' and askin' questions, when you'd a 
good deal ruther be a fixin' up your traps or rifle, or 
snellin' your hooks or what not. I'm never better off when 
I go out fur business, than when me and Watch hes the 
campin' spot to ourselves. I kin talk a little to the dog, 
and think over what I've got to do next day ; where to set 
my traps, or where it's more likely to roust a deer. There's 
plenty o' things to think on when a body's alone so, that 
he can't do when folks's a-dingin' into his ears suthin' or 
other all the time. But how would you like to take a 
swim ? There's a nice place out there, where you kin dive 
and kerlikew round consid'able." 

I found the bath delicious, the cool delicate lymph lap- 
ping me in elysium after my tramp. With the blood tin- 
gling in every invigorated vein, I re-entered the boat, and 
once more we pushed out into the lake. 

The broad surface was now kindling to the level sun. 
Down we rapidly went. Tommy's Eock and Wild Goose 
Island lessening in light purple haze. 

As the wild freedom I was enjoying glanced for the 
hundredth time through my mind, I spoke to Phin. 

" This life of yours, Phin, must be very pleasant ! — going 
when and where you please, asking no one ! " 

" Well," said Phin, feathering his oar, " y-e-s — ^I dunno 



306 

but 'tis. But I al'js bed a notion I might do better workin' 
in some big settlement, and lay up more money than in 
killin' ven'son and ketchin' fur, and guidin', and so on." 

" You have no one to ask as to your movements about 
this region, have you ?" 

" No, sir-ee," giving a sweep to his oar. " Now, I'm of 
age, even father there don't never tell me nothin' when to 
go, and which way to go, and so on." 

" Well, now, suppose you were working in one of these 
settlements and the boss should reprima — blow you up, for 
one thing or another, what then ?" 

"Blow me up!" said Phin, stopping his rowing, "blow 
me up !" 

" Yes !" 

" I'd like to see the man that 'ud blow me up !" hitching 
down his hat. 

" Well ! what would you do?" 

" I'd see plaguey quick who was the best man ! I'd lick 
him or he'd lick me !" and Phin plunged his oar so deep 
he caught a crab. 

" Them big bugs in the settlements 's mighty sassy when 
they've got a leetle money," said Harvey, his cracked voice 
more cracked than ever. " They think, I do bleeve, that a 
poor man haint got no right to live, no how. But sich kind 
o' chaps 'ad best keep out o' the woods, fur they'd git more 
sass 'an gravy." 

Down we still went, and gliding along near a large island 
in mid-channel, with no object save enjoying the beauti- 
ful sunset hour with its wooing airs and streaming golds 
and purples before selecting our camping spot for the 
night, suddenly we heard a wild shout ringing over the 
water. 

" It come from Fish Hawk Bay, over west there," said 
Harvey. " S'posen, Mr. Smith, as we've got nothin' else to 
do, we hev some fun with the loon ? I see't there, in a 
line with that elm slantin' out from Buck Island here. 
Goll, there's two on 'm ! We'll make chase." 



807 

Oars and paddle plunged deep and brought us swiftly to 
the bay. 

" It's a mother and her young 'un ; you see how grey 
the second one is," continued Harvey. *' 'Twould be a 
pity to shoot her, though loons is the tantenest and most 
aggravatin' critters next to black flies and mitchets I knows 
on. But I won't shoot her ! 'twould be too much like 
shootin' a doe with her fa'n. We'll skeer her though !*' 

The birds had evidently caught sight of us the moment 
we left Buck Island, for they buried their bodies almost 
under. As we came near, the mother gave a deep shout, 
breaking up into a shrill scream, and dived, followed by 
her young. 

Some little time passed, and then both necks suddenly 
emerged a long distance upon our right. 

The boat flew over the water, approaching so near to 
them that their hand-breadths of back became visible as 
they wallowed swiftly onward. 

Again came the cry from the mother, the warning cry, 
and both pitched under again, quick as thought. This 
time they shot up so near, I caught the wild, red gleam of 
the mother's eyeball. With a frightened " phibb," down 
again she went with her young, and once more the dark 
necks of the two came above the surface. It was touching 
to see the anxious care with which the old bird endeavored 
to guard the other, keeping in front of the boat, which was 
all the while doubling upon them like a hound upon a 
deer. 

Suddenly a clarion sound pealed over the water, and a 
superb loon came sailing down the lake, lifting its trumpet 
tone as it moved. 

" The old man," said Phin, " comin' down to see about 
his fam'ly, and what all this carryin'-on's up to !" 

" And, massy, how mad he is, and so full o' consekens 
too ! You'd think he owned all creation, lettin' alone my 
blacksmith shop," added Harvey. 

Up came the magnificent creature, riding high upon the 



808 WOODS AND WATERS; 

water, and swept past us, so intent upon tlie two birds 
before him that he did not seem to fear, or even notice us. 

Keaching the others, he made a circle as if to enfold 
them in a protecting ring, while shrill cries echoed from 
the three. Pushing then to the front he led the way down- 
ward, all in file, he frequently turning completely round as 
if to see whether danger menaced the rear. 

We ceased following, in pure admiration of the sight, and 
far down the lake the three sailed, lessening into specks, 
until they vanished in a rosy gleam of water. 

" S'posen we drop into Buck Island Bay, there to the 
east," said Harvey, after we had turned our course, and 
doubled the lower end of the large island. " We might as 
well be lookin' out for our campin' place. I've sometimes 
camped on Wind Island, in the bay here — ^but durn me, ef 
that loon aint a comin' agin !" as the well-known peal once 
more shook upon our ears. 

" It's the same one, I consate, that is, the old he feller. 
'Tisn't of'en you see two sich big ones cluss together. 
Now, ef he comes nigh enough, I'll fix 'im. They're the 
sassiest, provokinest critter" 

" That's so," chimed in Phin. " Ef ye git sight on a 
deer, jest as yer paddlin' up still like, or mebby about to 
fire, the fust you know, a dod-blamed loon'll set up his 
sass, hoo-oo-in' away, and the deer'll look up ; and then 
the loon'll sass up agin, and, hokey ! the deer's off like 
lightnin'." 

" It's jest as if it said," continued Harvey, " at fust, 
'■ Look out there,' and next, ' Be off;' and off 'tis. On top 
o' that, ef you should be ketched out on the lake in a spit 
o' rain, the loon'll al'ys hoot out jest afore it, as ef 'twas 
laughin' at ye. Or ef so be there comes up a smart blow, 
we'll say in the Narrers down there, you'll hev the con- 
founded loon a-yellin' and a-bowwowin' and a-tantin', as ef 
it raally eiy'yed itself in seein' you a-bobbin' up and down. 
I hate 'm. There he comes !" handling his rifle. 

Up again swept the bird, riding high as before, and car- 



809 

rying his neck proudly, sounding at intervals his ringing, 
triumphal, defiant note. 

" Don't be sassin' us too much," said Harvey, as a bold 
flourish burst from the bird. " I'll give ye Hail Colum- 
bee" 

"Don't shoot him, Harvey," interposed I; "he's a 
brave bird, and has done bravely." 

" Ef you'd lost as many deer as I hev," returned Har- 
vey, squinting over his barrel, "you wouldn't be so tender- 
hearted about the divils." 

" I tell ye, it cuts cluss," added Phin, steadying the boat 
with his oars, " to lose a nice fat buck from the yellin's and 
catterwaulin's of these 'ere good-fur-nothin's." 

" Zactly," said Harvey, and he fired. 

Down plunged the loon ; but immediately after there 
was a flutter near the surface, and then a glance of white. 

" He's got it this time," said Phin, grinning, and pulling 
at his oars. " No more hoo-hooin' from that critter." 

" He's got a hole in his neck that isn't his mouth," said 
Harvey, as he lifted the lifeless bird, and placed him in the 
boat ; " and now, s'posen we go inter Saganaw Bay, instid 
o' Buck Island, and find a campin' spot. In the mornin', 
ef you say so, Mr. Smith, we'll go up the Fish Creek 
waters inter Big Square Pond, and then about a mile in 
the woods, nigh Kawlins Pond, where I'll show ye the 
biggest beaver-dam and meader you've seen yit." 

As the boat glided downward, I looked again and again 
at the dark purple-green of the loon's neck ; the two white 
collars below; his back and wings of ebony, inlaid with 
pearl ; the pure snow of his undershape ; the black dagger 
of his beak ; his fierce red eye ; and his short, straight, 
jointless leg, so adapted to propel the buoyant barque of 
his body. His structure was wild, almost grotesque, and, 
like his Indian whoop, in harmony with the secluded and 
savage waters which he alone makes his home. 

" They're an odd fish," said Harvey, as he watched my 
interest in the bird. "In the spring, jest as soon as the 



310 WOODS AND WATERS; 

ice is out o' the lakes, you'll see *m start up, as 'twere, out 
o' the water. In the evenin' there won't be none on 'm 
seen, p'raps ; and the next mornin', mebby in a snow- 
squall, the fust thing you'll hear'll be their hoo-o-o, looddle, 
loddle loddle, by some island or other. And jest so it is, 
late in the fall. At night you'll hear 'm in full blast, and 
at mornin' they aint nowheres. They're the queerest 
critter to get out o' the water, too. Fur all they swim so 
fast, they're an awk'ard thing to rise, their wings is so 
short and their body's so heavy. They'll mebby go on 
a-strugglin' a rod or two, beatin' the water with their 
wings, and at last they'll make out to git clear. The best 
way they find to raise up is agin the swells ; they git a 
cant-up then quick. Oust up, they fly like the mischief 
high in the air, so that you kin jest see 'm, and they keep up 
a terr'ble hootin' and squallin' as they go, the same as in 
the water." 

" They have nests, of course ?" 

" Sarten. They build 'm along the edges o' the islands, 
and on the p'ints, and in the lonesomest coves. Yery of 'en 
they build on floatin' bogs, which is tied by threads of 
grass to the bottom, like the water-lilies. I've seen 'm a 
half a mile from shore, sometimes, on these bogs. The 
nests is made of wet mud, and they lay two or three big- 
sized, green-lookin' eggs, speckled with brown spots. In 
the spring, and along airly in the summer, the male bird '11 
go with his mate. After that, the mother '11 go with her 
young, and the old loon goes sailin' about alone by himself. 
It takes a quick hand to shoot 'm, they dive so at the flash 
o' the gun." 

" They can't be eaten, can they ?" 

" Oh massy, no ! I'd as lieve eat a raven. They're so 
full of ile, that their feathers, as ye see, is as dry as a pine- 
board as sun as they come out o' the water." 

" What do they feed on ?" 

" Fish and frogs and plants and grass, and sich like, that 
they find round the water. They dive after the fish, and 



311 

gulp 'm down while they're under water. They're weather- 
wise, too. Such a howlin', and catterwaulin', and bow- 
wowing as they'll set up afore a rain-storm or a gale o' 
wind ! Hark !" as a succession of faint cries, came from 
behind a point. " The loons in Gilpin Bay, down there 
to the west, is sayin' that rain's now makin' fur us. There's 
the deer, too. They kin tell three days aforehand when a 
long storm's a-comin'. No matter how clear the weather 
is, they'll go off from where they've bin in the habit o' 
feedin', to the thickest woods and swamps, a-housin' them- 
selves agin the storm. The truth is, Mr. Smith, I'm in a 
wonder like, how much all the dumb critters in the woods 
knows. They kin take keer o' themselves a good deal bet- 
ter than most folks. I've watched a common mushrat, afore 
now, seein' 'm dodge about after his food, keepin' a good 
look-out all the time for dannger, till I raaly didn't know 
what to think, except that all this preached up, jest as clear 
as the sun, that there was suthin' directin' all this. Even 
ef there was no sich thing as a Bible, all what I see in the 
woods tells me there's a God." 

We turned a long point, and directed our course toward 
a bay on the east side of the lake. 

" Markham P'int," said Harvey, " the biggest p'int on 
the lake. The bay here is Saganaw Bay, where we'd better 
camp for the night. The island is Trout Island." 

We landed upon a beautiful beach of smooth white sand, 
in a little green nook. The broad print of a panther's 
paw was stamped in the sand near the water, where he had 
probably paused to drink. 

The sun had now set. As I watched him sinking below 
the tree-tops, I felt, with the wide lonely lake in front and 
the overwhelming forests around, more profoundly than 
ever before, as if some protecting power had departed. 

Rosy clouds were scattered over the zenith. On the rim 
of the west was a cloudy terrace of violet, pink, and lus- 
trous grey ; the lake displayed a rich burnish, and the 
island began thickening in golden umber. 



312 WOODS AND WATEIIS; 

We selected our sleeping-room beneath an old iron-like 
trunk, glued to the ledge out of which it twisted, the whole 
looking as if the rock had shot out into a tree. Here we 
spread our mattresses of boughs, built our camp-fire, and 
ate our evening meal. The dusk crept on, and the night 
breeze came in delicious breaths of coolness. Above, the 
moon was shining, yielding to the water a dim, tremulous 
lustre, and painting the forest with silver lights and deep, 
sweeping shadows. 

After a while, father and son commenced a song, which 
I give in " corrected form." 

Oh, give me a home where the far winds roam 

Through the forest, as over the sea 1 
"Where the waters wide are flashing and the torrents bold are dashing, 

And the eagle waves his pinion far and free ! 
Where the trout is glad up-leaping and the lily-cup is sleeping, 

And the deer is skimming onward like a dart; 
In this home of simple pleasures, which in sooth are greatest treasures, 

In this home, this free home of the heart I 

Oh, why should we stay, where our toilsome way 

Is beset by the pitfall and thorn ! 
Where we call each other brother, but to prey on one another, 

And we better, never, never have been born I 
Yes, why should we so sorrow, when here the day and morrow 

Are made of vanished Paradise a part I 
In this home of leaf and fountain ! in this realm of lake and mountailll 

In this home, this free home of the heart I 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 813 



CHAPTER XXy. 

Up Fish-Creek Waters. — Old Dam at Floodwood Pond. — Big Square Pond. — 
Maine Shanty. — Beaver-dara. — Wind on Upper Saranac. — Bear Point. — 
The Narrows. — Deer in Lake. — Camping on Point. — Moonhght Scene. — 
Dawn. — Trail in the Woods. — Down Lake to Bartlett's. — Moonlight Sail 
through Lowxr Saranac. — Baker's. 

Daybreak saw us afloat, our dips alone disturbing the 
crystal of the lake. Little wheels of dead leaves revolved 
occasionally athwart the open dingles of the woods, along 
the bay; the nervous aspens shook their round leaves in 
quick, glancing motions, like the play of water, while the 
wan tinge of the sky was momentarily darkening the blue 
into brown, threatening to drive away the sunshine. All 
betokened rain, like the loons in Gilpin Bay the day before. 
We decided, however, to visit Big Square Pond, as con- 
templated, and accordingly we crossed the lake to Fish 
Creek Bay, directly opposite where we had encamped. 
Passing through the bay, we entered Fish Creek north- 
westwardly, and went through its first three ponds, from 
the third of which Big Square Pond opens to the west. 

" Shell we go up as far as Floodwood Pond, Mr. Smith ?" 
said Harvey; " I'd like to show yer the old dam at the out- 
let of this creek, where I ketch white fish in the fall. I 
start from hum so as to be on the ground airly in the 
mornin', fill my barr'l and git to hum agin afore night." 

We pushed accordingly through the other expanses of 
the Creek, silvered over with the white lily-blossoms, and 
glanced at Little Square Pond, lying also to the west and 
looking sombre under the fast darkening colors of the sky. 
A mile farther of the Creek brought us to the dam. 

An immense log lay athwart the mouth of the outlet, 

U 



314 WOODS AND waters; 

resting on beds of gravel. At the left were the blackened 
timbers of the old dilapidated dam, while the broken, pre- 
cipitous banks were bristling with cedars, the lighter green 
of the hard or deciduous trees mingling with their dark 
hues. Beyond, spread the waters of the pond, dim under 
the leaden sky, which was fast thickening into mist. 

The quick drops were beating merrily upon the lily -pad 
surface of Duck Pond, as we passed downward, and when 
we turned into Big Square Pond, the whole scene was 
roaring with the rain. 

" Thank fortin' for the Maine Shanty up ahead," said 
Harvey ; " it looks to me 'twould rain all day." 

The shanty was at the extreme western end of the pond, 
and proved tight and comfortable. 

" The lumber fellers has left a good stove, I see," con- 
tinued the old woodman, " and," picking up a fragment of 
spruce board, " here's a part o' the deacon-seat, that'll be 
old hunderd fur kindlin'." 

The stove, after puffing a little in smoky anger, sup- 
plied farther by the dry billets of wood lying in a little 
closet, diffused a ruddy glow through the room and a 
grateful warmth over our chilled frames. All the afternoon 
we heard the monotonous song of the rain upon the roof, 
only varied by the gusty strike of the sheets against the 
sides of the cabin, as if they wished to make us a visit 
bodily. The open door let our vision out upon the 
white, bubbling surface of the water, and the dark, wet 
woods. 

There was a second story, of one room, littered with 
straw, in which I found a dingy pack of cards. The hollow 
bass of the rain alone awoke the silence, and I listened to 
it with the pleasure yielded by my security from the " piti- 
less " pel tings without. 

At sunset there was a change. The storm struggled 
heavily against the charging winds and the spears of sun- 
shine, marshalling its sullen columns and rolling and wel- 
tering over the battle-ground of the concave, but at last 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 815 

piled its black masses in retreat at the east, leaving a bare 
zenith and a west glowing in ruby. 

At midnight I was awakened by a wild shout. I started 
to mj feet, for I thought some wretch was drowning in the 
lake, or perishing in the woods. A second cry came, and 
I found it was that of a loon. I looked from the little win- 
dow of the loft. It was repeated, and, in the dead darkness 
of the hour and blackness of the water, the cry seemed the 
wail of some demon mocking, while it despaired. 

Morning arose with a high wind. We crossed the pond 
to another lumber shanty, and then followed a faint trail 
through the woods for a mile, which brought us to the 
beaver meadow. It was larger than any I had found, with 
the usual grass and islands of wood and edges of tamarack. 
A stream coursed through, with two small ponds, one of 
which was skirted by the dam. This was much higher 
than those I had seen, having an altitude of six feet. Soli- 
tude and silence claimed the whole scene, and after enjoy- 
ing the quiet beauty awhile, I returned with my guides to 
the boat. 

" We shell hev a dancin' time on't, on S'nac," said 
Harvey, as we came in sight of Fish Creek Bay; " it's a 
south wind, and it has the whull rake o' the water." 

The trees were waving on the borders of the Creek, and 
the leafy depths gave out a sullen sound, ominous of the 
truth of Harvey's words. No signs, however, were in the 
bay to verify them, the surface, though rolling, beiug by no 
means menacing. Nevertheless, as I looked into the main 
lake, I saw, with some misgiving, a black, stormy-looking 
water, with quick flits of white upon it. 

Phin was at the oars and Harvey at the stern with his 
paddle. Watch was curled at my feet. Eight toward the 
black water the old boatman steered, the swells, every 
moment, although we were still in the bay, growing more 
and more threatening. At length a dull, deep roaring 
met our ears. 

" Old S'nac is rael mad to-day," said Harvey, quietly 



316 WOODS AND WATERS; 

looking at the black water in front. " This south wind 
plays the mischief with, the lake. It rakes it all along and 
makes the edges jest as bad, if not wuss, than the middle. 
The swells 'ud pound a boat on the rocks and stuns o' the 
banks all to pieces in five minutes. We've got to take it in 
the deep water jest as we kin, and we will take it as sun 
as we git round Moose P'int there," nodding toward a 
point on the right, bounding the bay. 

Higher and higher rose the swells, and at length, turn- 
ing the point downward, we found ourselves amid rollers 
several feet high, flashing with foam and bursting with 
portentous roar. Up to the summit of the swells, and 
pitching into the hollows, on we went. Occasionally, as 
some roller higher than the rest hung over us, Harvey, with 
a gesture, would direct the course of Phin's oars, dipping a 
rapid paddle himself, and we would skirt the base of the 
threatening swell, like the darting swallow, until we could 
cross its lessened slope with safety. 

For one mile we thus fought our way, Harvey smoking 
his pipe with great calmness, and Phin pulling with the 
same careless air he would have worn on the sheltered 
Racket. 

At length Harvey spoke. 

" You see that p'int out there to the right ? That's Bear 
P'int, and there the wust part o' the Narrers begins. I 
don't want to be skeery, but I raaly think 'twont do to try 
to go through 'm in this blow. The rollers here's next to 
nothin' to them down there, and it's my jedgment we'd 
better land on the p'int and wait for the blow to die off, as 
I think 'twill about sundown. At all events we'll hev good 
dry campin' there ef we're obleeged to pass the night. Shell 
wedo't?" 

I gladly assented, and passing over several perilous rollers, 
we were at length enabled to moor our slight craft at the 
point, after a paroxysm of thumpings upon the rocks that 
threatened its destruction. Our spot was a small, tree- 
less ledge rounding into the lake, with two or three little 



817 

grassy hollows near the edge of the woods, and large blocks 
and points of splintered rocks at the water-margin, through 
and over which the angry swells dashed themselves into 
flying spray with hoarse sounds. Downward for half a 
mile rolled and foamed the black Narrows. 

Harvey leveled a maple, and soon a blazing fire kindled 
the bleak point into comfort. We then partook of our 
frugal dinner, and passed the afternoon very pleasantly. 

Although the gale swept furiously up the lake, whistling 
over the point and howling through the bordering trees, 
yet a little distance within, the branches, except at top, 
spread out in a silence and quiet as profound as in the most 
breathless atmosphere ; so little did even this fierce wind 
affect the huge mass of the wilderness. 

In front and on either hand, the dark, wrathful lake was 
tossing and bursting into white, while the roar of the swells 
was mingled with that of the wind. The upper clouds 
were almost motionless, but below, the ghastly scuds flew 
from south to north with almost the speed of lightning. 

It was now near sunset, and the two guides had gone a 
rod or two into the forest for branches with which to sup- 
ply the fire. Looking above the Narrows, I suddenly 
espied a small white object gliding over the rough water, 
which a second glance assured me was a deer. 

The guides emerging upon the point at the instant, saw 
the deer also, and rushed to the boat, which had been drawn 
upon the rocks. Directly, they were tossing upon the 
surface in pursuit of the animal, which had caught sight of 
them, turned, and was now making back for the shore. 
Although the boat almost flew over the water, I saw the 
deer, which was swimming rapidly, still far in advance. 
At last he raised his light frame and shot up the bank. In 
a minute or two the Bluebird also touched the bank, and 
the two men disappeared. 

After a half hour passed by me in watching the chasing 
swells, and listening to their tumult, I saw a black speck 
at the opposite shore, and then a flash of silver. It was the 



818 

returning boat, bringing, however, no deer. Although shot 
by Harvey in the hind-quarter, it had managed to escape. 

The wind, instead of lessening, grew wilder as the twilight 
thickened. The guides cut down a hemlock, and with its 
branches strewed our couches for the night, in one of the 
hollows nearest the woods. The fire was supplied gene- 
rously. We hauled the boat up, propped it at the edge of 
the hollow, and then stretched ourselves for slumber under 
its roof, which curved half way over, thus protecting us 
mainly from the wind. 

I raised myself on my elbow, before sleeping, to survey 
the scene. The jack had been kindled, and was burning 
under the stern of the boat ; the fire suffused the point 
with yellow light, which caught upon our ribbed roof, and 
brought out in bold though unequal relief the background 
row of trees, leaving the depths beyond to murky black- 
ness. The lake in front spread in lighter, but still uncer- 
tain hues, and the swells made a continual wash upon the 
point. 

Suddenly the moon burst from a huge, black cloud, 
covering one-half the sky, and threw her soft smile upon 
the lake, in strong contrast to its rolling and foaming rage. 
The near picture of the point started out in clear outline ; 
the paled fire, the phalanx of forest, the curved boat, the 
two sleepers, and the rocks at the edge of the water, now 
darkly glistening and now buried in the silver lashings of 
the spray. 

The burst of moonlight seemed the sudden coming of a 
friend, and with a glow of pleasure from its guardian pre- 
sence, I lay down beside my companions, and, to the moan- 
ing of the forest and splashing of the lake, fell asleep. 

I woke. The fire had died away ; the moon was filling 
the hollow of the boat with silver, showing, clear as day, 
my guides in the attitude of slumber ; and the east was 
turning into amber with the coming of the sun. 

The swells had ceased ; the wind no longer moaned in 
the branches ; all was peaceful and beautiful. An owl was 



819 

whining in tlie yet murky depths, and a couple of loons 
were in a convulsion of howls and screams upon the lake. 

I again slept, and awoke this time at the summons of 
Harvey. The moon was in the west, blind and pale ; the 
east was glowing with gold, and the scuds, which were 
driving like smoke before the again wakened, but now 
gentler wind, gleamed in flakes of flame. 

The Narrows heaved, but were no longer swelling and 
bursting in anger. 

We embarked ; but previous to laying our course down- 
ward, crossed over to look up the wounded deer. 

Harvey soon struck the trail among the herbage, where 
I saw nothing. 

At none of the peculiarities of forest life have I been 
more astonished than at the quickness of sight and skill (I 
might almost say intuition) of the guides, in deciphering 
the little, delicate signs left by the wood animals, in token 
of their late presence. The tilting of a fern, the rent of a 
dead leaf, a dash of moss, a drop of rusty blood scarce 
distinguishable from a weather-stain, a crushed sprout, the 
edge-mark of a hoof, the puncture of a claw, even the 
cling of a hair on a shrub, etches the trail to the hunter's or 
trapper's eye, unerringly as the beaten deer-track winding 
through the woods. 

The old guide wove the bits of his trail together for a 
mile, but in vain. He then decided to return, and resume 
our downward course, fearful the wind might again rise 
in its strength and imprison us another day. 

As we passed through the Narrows, I asked Harvey 
some questions about the lake. 

"It's ten miles long, and, as a gin'ral thing, three wide," 
he answered. " From the head, as jou. come out o' Spring 
Pond Bay, you can see clearn to the foot, where the Injin 
Carry is, lyin', as it doos, about due north and south. 
From bay to bay — that is, through Fish Creek Bay to 
Saganaw Bay — it's, say, four miles ; and it's four miles at 
the head, by Tommy's Rock and Goo — Wild Goose Island. 



820 

It's a grand sheet o' water, and has a shore line of mebby 
fifty miles, with nine bays, eleven p'ints, and twenty-five 
islands." 

As we opened upon the broad part of the lake below 
the Narrows, the water grew rough again, and opposite a 
wild clearing at the west, belonging to Bartlett, we encoun- 
tered a few rollers that reminded us of those of the day 
before ; but we danced merrily over, making for the islands 
in front. 

" There's smooth water agin, jest beyond Mink Island 
there," said Harvey; "and I smell the breakfast a'most 
from Bartlett's." 

We threaded the islands and turned around a point into 
the bay or " Gut," from which dash the Saranac river- 
rapids. 

Upon our right, at the foot of the beautiful lake, rose 
the woods of the Indian Carrying-Place; and I let my 
fancy wander through its leafy corridor to those wild 
realms beyond, I had so lately traversed with ever new 
delight. 

We passed through the Gut to the carry around the 
rapids, and a short walk in the fresh morning air brought 
us to the dip in the road beneath which stood Bartlett's Inn. 

Here I passed the day. I looked at the little garden ; 
listened in the log-hut to the talk of two of Bartlett's 
guides ; watched Bartlett himself, as in high good-humor 
he led his hounds by couples to the water for a plunge- 
bath, he shouting at the top of his shrill voice as they 
shrank and strove to escape ; examined the dam ; crossed 
the picturesque bridge, and wandered along the wooded 
acclivity opposite ; re-crossed, and caught glimpses of the 
rapids from the carry ; partook of a capital dinner of trout 
and venison ; strolled in the gentle afternoon light through 
the whole grassy area of the little clearing; made the 
acquaintance of a party just setting out with their guides 
toward the Indian Carrying Place, over which a deep 
purple thunderstorm was lowering ; opened another with a 



821 

second party firing at the head of a dried loon-skin on a 
pine near the line of hound-kennels, the crack of the rifle 
and congh of the fowling-piece making the echoes rattle in 
the woods ; and after the sun had closed his broad eye 
behind the western trees, listened to the song of the Sara- 
nac Nightingale, rising and sinking from the forest toward 
the Upper Lake. 

How I love the music of this hermit bird ! In the 
rudest recesses, it has caught my ear, as well as in the most 
beautiful. I have listened as it melted over the sunset 
mirror of the Lower Saranac, floated through the wild 
beaver- woods of the St. Kegis, cheered the depressing lone- 
liness of Dead Creek, spread a charm over the Bog Eiver 
fastnesses, and pierced as with a silver arrow the roar of 
Perciefield. 

Oh the trill of the beautiful bluebird ! 

It sends a quick joy through the breast ; 
For it tells us the blossoms are coming, 

That Nature has waked from her rest I 
And witching the red robin's warble, 

That floats the May sunset along ; 
But the woods own a melody sweeter, 

The Saranac Nightingale's song! 

And merry the lay of the bobolink, 

Hither and thither so free, 
Till the bushes and stalks of the pasture-field 

Tremble and sway in his glee I 
And the wren at her tiny wood-cottage, 

What notes from her little bill throng 1 
But both would I turn from to listen 

The Saranac Nightingale's song. 

When saddened, how low sinks the melody 1 

Lower and tenderer still ; 
Till a fountain, distilled from true happiness, 

Softly the heart seems to fill 1 
When blithe, oh how loud and how bell-like 

The strain she then seems to prolong 1 
Yes, the spirit of rapture is ringing I 

The Saranac Nightingale's song. 



322 

I have heard it when day-break was blushing, 

When sunset was gleaming in gold, 
When sunshine was sparkling around me, 

When storm robed the sky with its fold ; 
And to each of the summer-day changes 

Her song seemed in turn to belong. 
Oh, faithfullest echo to Nature I 

The Saranac Nightingale's song. 

And now when fond memory pictures 

The far-away wilderness scene, 
Where I wandered, unchained as the eagle, 

Among the rich splendor of green ; 
Though the pine sounds its deep-hearted harmony, 

Ripple the waters along, 
Far dearer one strain to remembrance. 

The Saranac Nightingale's song I 

Twiliglit liad shown its last tint in the brightening moon 
as we crossed Bound Lake, which was one glow of ruby. 
We entered the narrow channel of the Saranac Eiver, 
and the close woods threw a darkness over the scene, 
save where a reaching moonbeam kindled the silver birch 
or flashed upon a reach of the river. 

We made the short portage of the Middle Falls, and at 
length, emerging from the gloom of the river, saw before 
us the superb moonlight picture of the Lower Saranac. 

So quiet was the water, we seemed floating through air, 
with the shadowy islands like clouds around us. Now 
we glided over a broad space of splendor, and now blended 
ourselves in the gloom of some aisle of foliage or rock. 
The quiet was perfect, for Harvey had shipped the oars, 
and Phin was drawing the paddle noiseless as in the night 
hunt. Not a leaf rustled, not a ripple murmured. Never 
did the world appear so far away, with its childish pomp, 
its hollow conventionalities, its follies and its crimes. Na- 
ture seemed to whisper rest to the weary heart, to throw 
her arms around it and say, " Come ! find on my bosom 
the solace of thy sorrows and thy cares." And never had 
my whole being been so spell-bound in the witchery of the 
moon. I have since seen her glowing above the awful 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 823 

solitudes of the Indian Pass ; on the slope of Mount Seward, 
I have marked her silver pouring upon the terrific wilder- 
ness that stretches southward from his base, the mysterious 
region of " The Chain Lakes " — the lone eleven ; I have 
gazed upon her, a pearly pendent on the sublime brow of 
Tahawus, and thought her loveliness enhanced by the stern 
contrast. But now all was in harmony ; all one blended 
scene of almost heavenly beauty. 

At length we glided between the Two Sisters, leaving 
Eagle Island to our right one ridge of pearl, crossed the 
molten silver of the intervening basin, and stopped at Mar- 
tin's. 

Here we refreshed ourselves on some of the host's excel- 
lent wildwood viands, and then, leaving the guides to care 
for the faithful Bluebird, which had so long borne me in 
my wanderings, I took up my solitary midnight, moonlight 
way to the Lake House. 

The tops of the woods were illumined ; splashes of white 
light lay on the bushes, chequered the prostrate logs, and 
turned the twisted roots into slumbering serpents. The 
rude houses of Harrietstown were painted into sharp-cut 
lights and shadows, and the dam was one sheet of silver. 
As I ascended the hill, I again noticed the picturesque 
river-bend more beautiful than ever in the delicate light. 
Another turn in the road brought in view the white, gabled 
tavern of Baker's. 

How stifling was the air of my chamber after camping 
so long in the woods I It seemed at first I could hardly 
breathe, but the long usage of conventional life triumphed, 
and I fell asleep, the murmurings of the little rapid chang- 
ing into the hum of the pine, and the lighter square of my 
open window into the parted drapery of the " breezy tent." 



324 WOODS AND WATEES; 



CHAPTER XXYI. 

"Whiteface. — Approach to Mountain. — ^Upward. — "White Falls. — Chasm. — 
Little Slide. — Great Slide. — Summit. — Prospect. — Descent. — Baker's. — 
Backwoods' Dance. — Whiteface Notch. — Homeward. 

The next morning I started on the last of my excursions, 
the visit to the summit of Whiteface. 

This mountain is the northern outpost of the Adirondacks. 
It is a detached summit, wearing near its brow a light grey 
appearance, which has given it its name ; it is over five 
thousand feet in height, and owns but one superior, Mount 
Tahawus (a recent survey makes that doubtful) between 
the Connecticut and the Mississippi. Its south-western 
foot is bathed by Lake Placid, and along its southern 
and eastern sides flows the west branch of the Ausable 
River. 

The great slide of the mountain is on its western flank— 
a steep channel of rock, like a torrent transformed into 
stone — and reaches from its brow half-way to its base. The 
mountain, with one exception — a rough, stony opening 
around its southern summit — ^is wrapped to its very peak in 
forest, is totally uninhabited, and is wild and savage to 
the last degree. It is seen in every direction for fifty miles, 
and might well be crowned the king of the region. 

Our Club had already left the woods for their homes, and 
in the afternoon, through an air freshened by the showers 
of the morning, I started with a chance companion (a gentle- 
man who had just returned from an excursion up Bog 
River) for the ascent. 

We took the road to Nash's, a ride of twelve miles ; 



825 

whence a half-mile on foot would carry us to Lake Placid, 
across whose four-mile length lay our course to the foot of 
the mountain. 

I had a passing view of Harvey at the door of his cabin, 
with a sapling angle-rod leaning beside him and a rifle on 
his knee, the lock of which he seemed examining, and we 
exchanged a word of hearty greeting. Several hounds were 
gliding in and out, conspicuous among which were Watch 
and Pup. 

We crossed " The Plains," noted for deer, passed the 
track to Ray Brook, famous for trout, and a few miles far- 
ther saw at our left, detached from the mountains that 
hitherto had formed our east horizon, the grand form of. 
old Whiteface. 

We emerged fl-om the woods, that with intervals of 
rough clearing and wild meadow had crowded the wheel- 
track, and opened on the smooth fields of North Elba. 
Opposite the white dwelling of the blind Priest of the 
Adirondacks, we turned eastward, still finding a road. 

At Thompson's we secured our guide — young Dauphin 
Thompson, since engaged in John Brown's famous raid at 
Harper's Ferry and there shot. Toward sunset, we reached 
Bennet's Pond, on the borders of which was Nash's clear- 
ing. 

To the south stretched the superb Adirondacks, with 
Tahawus soaring above all. 

Sunset came, flashing from his front the most imperial 
colors. The range turned into a haze of rose-violet, the 
little pond in front into a ruby, while to the extreme lefi; 
of the mountain -picture gleamed the purple cone of White- 
face. 

By and by the round moon rose, and the lovely landscape 
lay in the silver silence of the night. 

Sunrise found us at Paradox Pond, which opens by a 
narrow channel into Lake Placid. 

The guide drew a boat from a thicket, and we crossed 
the lake toward Whiteface, the mountain all the while lift- 



326 WOODS AND waters; 

ing his proud cone higher and higher until the summit 
smote the blue of the morning. 

But the dark mass seemed to cast a great sorrow over 
the brilliant sky and sparkling lake ; for I was then full of 
trouble. To shun the haunting shadow, whither should I 
flee ? In the sunshine, it was there, and in the quiet night ; 
in the lonely musing; in the tumult of the storm and the 
music of birds and waters. Whence, oh heart! this sad- 
ness ! Is hope indeed a mockery and love but a long- 
drawn sigh ! Is life but another name for woe — its past a 
regretful memory, its present one dreary waste, its future 
lost in darkness ? 

Then I felt a voice sinking into the depths of my spirit, 
— as it were, the voice of the mountain. 

" Cease, fool of thine own fantasies ! cease thy vain repin- 
ings ! Listen ! Yesterday, storms beat upon my bosom ; 
today, I rejoice in sunshine. But what if storms should 
return to-morrow ? Still would I stand upon my solid base 
and brave the clouds that dashed upon my breast. Light- 
nings may shatter these crags and cut their pathway to my 
core, yet shall I keep my heart forever firm in the strength 
of peace." 

I bowed to the teachings of the voice ; I took the truth 
into my soul. If joy is transient, so, too, is sorrow ; and 
sorrow nobly borne finds consolation in the very conscious- 
ness of the strength which it reveals. 

It was seven in the morning when we commenced our 
three-mile ascent. Path there was none. Here and there, 
as in the beaver-woods, a trail of bear or deer meandered 
through the hollows and along the low ridges, and was 
often lost under prostrate trees and thickets. 

The ascent at first was neither steep nor toilsome. Soon, 
however, it became obstructed by large rocks, which we 
clambered up, inserting our feet in the crevices, or resting 
them upon the mossy points and notches, and clinging to 
the knotted roots or branches of the firs and hemlocks. 

A deep murmur at length filled the air, and, glancing to 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 827 

the left, we caught flashes of falling water. Descending, 
we reached the margin of a headlong brook. Above, a 
milk-white water-fall hurled itself over frowning ledges, 
and foamed past and down a wild ravine until lost in leafy- 
gloom. It was the stream of the White Falls. 

The ascent now became more and more precipitous. 
Dead trunks blocked our way, crumbling into brown, damp 
flakes almost at the touch of our climbing feet ; immense 
masses of roots erect, with corresponding hollows, thickets 
almost impenetrable, mossy cavities in which we plunged 
waist-deep, underbrush that clung around our feet like ser- 
pents, and low boughs forcing us to stoop for passage, also 
interrupted our progress. As in the beaver- woods, again, 
the moss spread its piled velvet over almost every object — 
the coiling root, the mouldering log, the runnel cradled 
deep in the dingle, and the ledges on the levels of our 
way. 

Although we were continually ascending I was una- 
ware, so dense twined the forest, of the height to which we 
had clambered. But suddenly the green gloom opened 
into broad sunlight, and, looking out and down in that 
direction, I instinctively recoiled, with thrilling nerves. 
There, its edge within three paces, frowned a terrific chasm, 
cloven thousands of feet down, down through the breast of 
the mountain. On the nearest side it sank almost sheer, 
while opposite, a wall slightly sloping rose hundreds of feet 
above. Half-way down this awful gorge, I saw a floating 
atom that I supposed an eagle tacking up the side. From 
a ledge, seeming but a hand's-breadth and near the mov- 
ing speck, slanted what appeared a shrub but was really 
one of those enormous pines which towered up into the 
sky opposite, and went dwindling rank below rank down 
the chasm. 

Shuddering at the terror, and yet fascinated by the wild 
grandeur of the scene, I remained gazing, until a whoop 
from my guide recalled my thoughts, and turning, I once 
more bent my energies to clambering up the mountain. 



S28 



WOODS AND WATERS : 



This became harder and harder, from the increasing steep- 
ness and the density of the underbrush, as well as the barri- 
cades of branches though which we plunged, twisting aside 
and breaking off limbs for passage. Frequent halts were 
now made, generally beside some cool, clear spring, oozing 
out from moist roots and mossy clefts, for deep and most 
delicious draughts. 




WHITBFACE. 



Now and then a dead pine or hemlock, fallen from above, 
would bridge some deep ravine, offering an upward path 
along its broad breast and jagged points. 

Struggling thus an hour longer, all at once, we broke 
through a dense thicket, and a startling sight met us. A 
slant plunge of rock, perfectly smooth and sloping steeply 
to a sheer precipice, lay directly in our path. A few spots 
of moss alone broke the smooth, glistening granite.. 

" This is the Little Slide," said Thompson, and to my 
amazement and no little dread, he planted his foot r^pon it 
with the evident intention of crossing. 



829 

" You don't mean to say that our course lies over that 
place !" said I. 

" Sarten," returned he, " right crost." 

" There's no right about it," returned I, " and hang me 
if I go!" 

" No other way," responded the other coolly, and ad- 
vancing toward the middle. " There aint no dannger as I 
knows on. These spots o' moss is the dandy to git us 
crost." 

" They are, eh ! Suppose these spots of moss should 
slip, where would we go then ? Down that precipice as 
sure as we're alive I There isn't a crack in that slide — and 
slide it is, sure enough ! — as big as a knife-blade, to squeeze 
a finger in, and it's as smooth as a new-washed dinner-plate 
except the moss I" 

" No dannger and no other way," returned the lad, tread- 
ing over the shining surface unconcernedly as if on his 
cabin floor. " We can't go below it, that's sarten, and we 
can't git above it as I knows on ; at least without tuggin' 
and scratchin' and scrabblin' wuss than a bear climbin' a 
tree with a twenty pound trap on his paw. Folly me, and 
we'll git crost, I'll be bound." 

" Folly, sure enough !" thought I, " the greatest folly is 
in coming here at all ! climbing this savage and nearly 
inaccessible mountain with a hare-brained boy ! Why, 
that rock is like a steeple, and smooth as a looking- 
glass!" 

" Come on Mister !" said the guide, who had crossed 
and was standing on the opposite edge. 

Finding no help ' for it, I stepped upon the rock, and, 
with my frame tingling, moved cautiously along the slope, 
looking steadily before me, with my companion at my 
right. It was not more than two or three rods wide, and 
once over, I found myself inwardly vowing (forgetting that 
I must return) never again to commit such insanity. 

Turning sharply to the right, we once more applied our- 
selves to our task. It was now doubly painful. The sides 



330 WOODS AND waters; 

of the mountain became almost perpendicular. We made 
one continuous struggle of it; pulling ourselves up by 
brancbes, banging to roots, scrambling through clefts and 
over ledges, until, bursting through a barrier of close 
underbrush, we found ourselves on the brink of a long, 
slanting pathway of granite. It was the Great Slide. 

Down it pointed, and up, up, up it sloped, a stony ladder, 
grey and glistening, up to the very summit which now 
stood boldly out against the sky. 

Although not nearly so steep nor so perilous, to all 
appearance, as the Little Slide, the thought of ascending 
it produced a new crawling of the nerves. I knew it must 
be four thousand feet in air, and that all around were tre- 
mendous chasms and dizzy precipices, over which, by one 
slip of the foot, I might be hurled. But the guide's figure, 
sharply relieved against the sky as he travelled upward, 
called me on, with my comrade by my side. The steepness 
hardly allowed us an upright position ; huge boulders 
blocked our path ; springs spread an oily, slippery ooze 
over the bare granite. My soles, too, from the polishing 
of the dead leaves and pine-needles, had become like glass, 
and my tread, consequently, was not sure. 

But I persevered. The scene behind us was but a 
glimpse of a distant region, narrow and vague. On either 
side, the close forest stood up to the very edges. 

We had been half an hour on the Slide, and still were 
toiling up, up — the grey path slippery and blocked with 
boulders as before, when we came to a bed of pebbles and 
broken rock, which often rolled from under our tread, and 
went rattling down the Slide. A little way above stood 
the summit — a high rampart of rock. Suddenly we turned 
from the Slide into a slight track winding upward, and 
went along a rocky platform or gallery, jutting from the 
sides of the rampart. Glancing to the left, I shuddered 
at the dizzy chasm below, and grasped a bush instinctively. 
A few more winding steps to the right, and I stood upon 
the summit. 



831 

A deliciouslj cool wind was flowing over the peak, as if 
the air was stirred by a mighty fan. 

I threw myself beside my companion upon the ground ; 
I drew in with delight the nectarean air ; my heated pulses 
grew calm, and the dews of my long struggle with the 
mountain dried upon my forehead. 

After a short repose, I turned to study the scene. 

The summit was level, one or two hundred feet broad, 
with ledges of granite weather-stained and patched with 
lichen, cropping out of the thin, desolate soil. At the 
west, was a wall of serrated rock, the rampart as seen from 
below. I ascended by a step or two of jutting strata, and 
a most grand and enchanting prospect opened. Beyond 
the billows of verdure rolling down the mountain, lay, 
like a picture. Lake Placid, studded with emerald island- 
gems. To the utmost horizon, stretched the forest, surging 
into summits and sinking into valleys, holding the bright 
Saranac Lakes like a silver horse-shoe ; while around and 
beyond, were other waters of their group, like shields of 
steel or meandering veins of light. A long gleam betrayed 
the course of the Kacket, with Tupper's Lake, a glittering 
mirror, toward the south. 

I descended from the rock and looked northward. At 
my feet, lay a cultivated region, meadows and grain-fields, 
the roofs of Wilmington, and the two villages of Jay ; and 
afar, mountain-chains melted into the sky, with tracts of 
forest darkening between. 

" Guide, what is that long, narrow gleam in the farthest 
distance north ?" 

" That's old Champlain," answered the lad, reclining on 
his elbow, and picking his teeth with a jack-knife. 

^' And that range of mountain ?" 

" The Green Mountains, in old Yarmount." 

I looked at the gleam and the misty summits, forty and 
fifty miles away, and realized the height on which I 
stood. 

" The Eiver St. Lorrence has bin seen from here, but it 



332 WOODS AND waters; 

must a bin on a clearer day than this," said the lad, again. 
" I never see't myself, but folks sez so. Still, folks don't 
say al'ys what they oughter !" 

Southward rose the Adirondack range, breaking the sky 
with its pointed peaks. A single cloud stood over Tahawus 
like a plume — the only sign of human life between me and 
it, being the smooth, bright fields of North Elba ; and I 
exulted in the feeling that I had conquered a height little 
inferior, if at all, to his imperial crest. 

Turning from the prospect a moment, and while my 
companion and I were exchanging admiring expressions 
and sentiments inspired by the scene, I chanced to espy at 
my feet a little meek-eyed blossom, struggling through the 
ungenial moss. 

Even so, thought I, are the feeblest natures lifted some- 
times to positions fitted only to the sternest ; and thus also 
do the hardest hearts wear the softest virtues. 

My farther reflections were interrupted by the guide. 

" Graul darn !" said he, " bow dry I am ! as dry as a 
powder-horn ! But here's some blueberries I Psha I" 
spitting them out in disgust, " they're as bitter as boneset. 
But say, some folks is great fools !" 

" Indeed !" said I. 

" Ef they aint, I'm darned. I've heerd a heap o' the 
fools say, and they bleeved it, too, that there was a pond 
right on top o' this 'ere mountain ; and I must say I 
bleeved it too, before I come on top on't. Now, do you 
see any pond ?" 

" I must confess I do not." 

" You'd hev to hev more eyes than you've got, to see 
one here on the top o' this all-fired big hill — so big, 'twould 
bung up, as a body may say, a crow to fly up't. But why 
can't you see no pond ? 'Cause there aint no pond here 
fiir to see. Consarn 'em !" 

I once more turned to the prospect. For two hours I 
studied the splendid picture, stamping it upon my memory ; 
and then observing that the shadows had wheeled eastward, 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 833 

and calling to mind that the wild mountain offered no hos- 
pitality for the coming night — that, in fact, the nearest 
shelter was Nash's, beyond Lake Placid — I suggested our 
return. 

Bidding adieu to the stern summit, we wound down the 
rocky gallery and once more planted ourselves upon the 
Slide. Down we went, down among the loose pebbles, 
sending them spinning and bounding before us — down, 
scaling the boulders and sliding over the oily spots— down, 
until we reached the point where we had entered. We 
plunged into the forest, glad to change for trusty earth the 
slippery and treacherous rock. Then down again — down the 
ledges by the loops of roots and jutting crevices — down 
the abrupt, almost sheer declivities, steadying our descent 
by the pendent boughs, until we reached the Little Slide. 

Once more, plucking up courage, I followed my guide 
safely across, my companion beside me as before. Down 
again, plunging down, vaulting over the prostrate trees, 
threshing through the thickets ; down the ridges and 
through the hollows, pausing a moment at the silver 
springs, down, down we went, until once more we saw before 
us the welcome waters of Lake Placid, crimson now in the 
last lustre of sunset. 

Our ascent took seven hours, our descent four. 

Delightful was the skim of the boat, after my rough 
tramping. Some little distance on, I looked behind. Was 
it possible that I had trod the top of that tremendous cone, 
soaring so haughtily in the evening sky ! 

No doubt about it ! Every bone in my body proclaimed 
it, " trumpet-tongued." Was it worth the toil ? That was 
it, by the grandeur of the scenes beheld, and by the con- 
sciousness that, despite the monarch's frown, despite the 
*' divinity " of dizzy terror that " doth liedge him in," I 
had planted my foot victorious on his brow. Sternly, old 
Whiteface ! thou frownest back from thy throne of rock the 
mortal who approaches, but thou yieldest thy secret to 
endurance and energy, and rewardest graciously thy victor. 



834 WOODS AND wa'i:ers; 

So with adverse fortune ; stern in advance, but yielding to 
the will, it smiles on those who have the strength to van- 
quish it. 

From the opposite margin, I again looked backward 
lingeringly. 

The velvet softness, the dreamy haze in the twilight, 
was that the savage scene of such terrific chasms, such 
splintered crags such dread acclivities? And was not 
another emblem of life offered by it, so smooth to hope, so 
stern to experience ? 

We reached Nash's, and there rested for the night. 
Passages of my tramp fashioned half my dreams. Now I 
was dragging myself up the ledges by the snaky roots, now 
swinging like a pendulum from a slanting tree over un- 
fathomable chasms; now speeding on the wings of fear 
down the Great Slide from a huge rock that was bounding 
and thundering close behind me, striking fire as it flew. 
At last I was on the top of the rampart overlooking Lake 
Placid. Suddenly my head whirled, I fell, and in my 
wheel-like passage toward the lake, I awoke. A ray of 
moonlight through the little window shot athwart the entire 
length of the loft, kindling the rough beams and rafters 
All was quiet ; and congratulating myself that I was not 
really circling five thousand feet into Lake Placid, I again 
slumbered. 

With the returning light, in the glow of a beautiful 
morning, I returned to Baker's. 

Here I remained two days ; catching trout in the lovely 
windings of Kay and Mackenzie-Pond Brooks ; chasing a 
deer of Cort's imagination on " The Plains," and finding 
fatigue and a ferocious appetite, with nothing there to 
s itisfy it ; achieving Baker's Peak and its radiant prospect ; 
visiting Moose Pond, leafy and lone and beautiful, and 
gazing once more over the cool, blue expanse of the Lower 
Saranac, whence I again heard in the sunset the wild laugh 
of the loon. 



335 

Hark I the loon's laugh on the lake 1 

Hark I the taunting, jeering sound 1 
Shore and wave in echoes wake ; 

Mocking fiends seem revelling round. 
What disdain on man it throws I 

"Heart, despair I in anguish, break I 
Life is but a scene of woes," 

Says the loon's laugh on the lake — 
Laugh so scornful I 

Ah 1 the loon'a laugh on the lake ! 

Fame ! how gloriously it tears 

From unwilling Time the wreath I 
Power 1 what haughty front it wears, 

Trampling all it meets, beneath I 
"Wealth — the monarch of its sphere, 

Breathing air that flatterers make 1 
Surely happiness is here ! 

Hark I the loon's laugh on the lake — 
Laugh so scornful I 

Ah I the loon's laugh on the lake 1 

Youth, that bright and bounding time, 

Treading paths knee-deep in flowers I 
Manhood, in its towering prime. 

Heedless of the rushing hours 1 
Age, the sunset melting clear 

Hues that mellow lustre make I 
Surely happiness is here I 

Hark ! the loon's laugh on the lake — 
Laugh so scornful ! 

Ah I the loon's laugh on the lake 1 

The evening before I left, I stood on the rustic bridge 
below Baker's, and listened to the chiming of the little 
rapids. Gladly did they dash and glitter in the moon- 
beams, but sadly did my heart pulsate to their music. Oh, 
troubled heart ! — but again ? Remember the voice of the 
mountain, oh, troubled heart ! and rest. 

On returning to the tavern, I found three or four guides 
in the bar-room talking. 

" Them two tame bear by the barn keeps up an all-fired 
pacin' back'ards and forreds," said one. " They'll sarten 
wear their paws out. And that puts me in mind, b'ys, of 



I 



836 WOODS AND WATERS; 

the aliniglitiest big bear-track I see t'other day in White- 
face Notch. It" 

" Whiteface Notch !" interrupted I, " I've heard of that 
spot. What kind of place is it ?" 

" It's a tarnel big kind o' place. The rocks go np so 
high, it seems as ef they didn't want 'er stop at all." 

" Aha !" said I. " And where is this Notch ?" 

" It's on the road to Jay. You go up the 'Lizbethtown 
road to North Elby, and then turn up the road, east by 
the O'Sobble river to Jay, and then by ' The Forks' to 
Keeseville." 

"I wonder when the next dance '11 come off," said 
another a moment after. " I kinder feel as ef my legs 
want limb'rin." 

"Less see, that last was at Bloomin'dale 1" said a 
third. 

" 'Twan't nowheres else," responded the describer of the 
Notch, " and a good 'un it was, too, but nothin' like that 
we hed over Keene Mounting — less see — 'twas last Wash- 
in'ton's Birthday." 

" I heerd tell a leetle suthin' about that dance, Jake. 
Tell us about it!" 

After the usual "drinks round," the narrator settled 
himself on a barrel, which shared a corner with two jifles, 
a pair of snowshoes and a bearskin. 

" Well," commenced he, " I heerd the dance was a-corain' 
off, and so I went for Molly Keeler, a rael tip- top gal, with 
an eye like a fa'n's, and as fur dancin', there's no use a 
talkin' — the swells on Round Lake in a wind don't move no 
purtier. Molly was all prinked up in yaller, with a red 
ribbon round her little waist, and a pi'ny blow stuck in her 
hair as big as my fist. Well, we started. I hed a nice 
smart critter to go, and about the easiest buckboard that 
could be skeered up — why, Jim ! you knows Bill Hoskin 
that made the slash last Spring jest t'other side o' Harriets- 
town, torts the pond ! well, he hired me the buckboard, 
and I give 'im a mink skin fur the use on't. Well, as 



837 

I said afore, we started. Molly looked jeest as nice as 
a poppy-show, now I tell you ! and her tongue was a-goin^ 
and her eyes was a-dancin', the whull way — oh, orful! 
Well, we got to the tavern — Old Samson kept it, you all 
knows him ! a purty clever old critter, but a hoss to drink 
— and the b'ys and gals o' the whull settlement was there. 
There was Jack Ketcham that shantied nigh Mount Sew- 
ard last fall, ketchin' fur — he ketched an al-mighty sight o' 
fisher and saple that time — well, he was there with his gal, 
Betsey Parkins, and there was that Nelson feller — what 
was his fust name ! you know. Josh 1 the feller that shot 
the big moose last October on Bog River — yes, that's it — 
Sim ! — he was there with Faith Larkins. Then there was 
Pete Johnson, and — did ye ever go guidin' with Pete? 
He can take a bigger boat on a furder carry — well, I won't 
say no more. He hed Huldy Skinner with him. Well, I 
can't tell ye all on 'm ! but there was as good a lot o' b'ys 
and gals as I've most ever seen. We hed good music too, 
what I call good music 1 Tom Stackpole was there with 
his fiddle I You all knows Tom, and you needn't fur to go 
tell me Tom can't handle a bow ! Well, at it we went, 
rick-a-tick, rick-a-tick, rick-a-tick-a-ticky, hey, b'ys I Coats 
off after the fust breakdown and hankerchers tied round 
the waist, and didn't we go 't heel and toe I Oh, sha, there 
aint no use a-talkin' I And Tom, didn't he make that bow 
o' his'n fly ! well, he did 1 and his foot it went tapity-tap, 
keepin' time, and he'd holler out, " All hands round ! 
dance to pardners, down in the middle," as farse as a tad- 
pole in a bog. And as fur Moll, I tell yer, b'ys, ef her 
leetle feet didn't go and her big eyes didn't snap, oh go 
'way now I ' Hooray I' says Jack Ketcham, ' make way 
fur the bear down the middle !' Whiles Pete Sawyer's legs 
flew about so nimble, I consated he'd ontwist all the knots 
out o' his hankercher. Finally at last Jack Ketcham — 
well, I must say, b'ys, he was purty well swiped, ef he is 
old hunderd on trapping as old Harve says — but as I was 
a-sayin' — finally at last Jack he kicks off his boots and goes 



838 WOODS AND WATERS ; 

it in his stockin' feet, and he jumps up and down, and 

* Whoop, h-o-o-r-a-y I' s'ze, * fur the tiger,' s'ze, ' and the 
rhinoceros,' s'ze, 'and all kind o' painters,' s'ze, ' lettin' 
alone mushrats,' and kep' strikin' his hands agin his heels 
every jump he made. Well, we kep' it up till about sun- 
rise, and I hev an idee we'd a danced till after breakfast 
time ef 'twant for one thing, and that is ef 't 'adn't bin that 
all on us got a-fightin', that is, all the b'ys. And this was 
the way on't. Every time twixt the breakdowns, all hands 
went to the bar-room and we was all terr'ble dry, and you 
needn't say 'twas buttermilk, nur 'lasses and water, nur 
cider-ile and ginger, hey ! Not by consid'ble ! W-a-a-1, 
'bout sunrise the whiskey begun to work. Jack Ketcham 
was purty well loaded, and the last drink fired 'im off. 

* I'll bet as much mink,' s'ze, ' as a leetle grasshopper like 
me,' s'ze, ' kin put in his pocket,' s'ze (he was as big as a 
two-acre clearin'. Jack was) ' agin,' s'ze, ' a couple o' rats, 
what this bull-moose,' s'ze — slappin' little Phil Campbell 
on the back — ' can't more'n carry on his shoulders,' s'ze, 
' that this baby kin outdance,' s'ze, * enny chap in this ere 
breakdown,' s'ze, and ' whoop,' s'ze, and ' h-o-o-r-a-y,' s'ze, 
and he jumped up three times, and hit his heels with his 
hands every time agin. Now, b'ys, Phil was leetle, but 
wa'n't he smart ? wa'n't he ? whew ! He was the grittiest 
critter ! Well, Phil, he brustled up like a woodchuck in 
his hole ! ' What yer 'bout !' s'ze, ' slappin' folks on the 
back,' s'ze. ' I aint a-goin' to stand no sich carryin's-on as 
that,' s'ze ; and with that he let drive r-r-r-ight agin Jack's 
nose, and you may bleeve the fight was in. Nick Tanner 
he sprung and Sam Libby and Chris Topple, and the fists 
flew, and ye may s'pose, b'ys, that this chap wa'nt a-goin' 
to be punched in the back and kicked round gin'rally with- 
out hevin' a hand in ; and in the midst on't all, in come 
Tom Stackpole fur his pay, and, ' b'ys,' s'ze, ' stop your 
fightin' jest fur a minute,' s'ze, ' and gimme my pay 1 two 
dollars,' s'ze, ' and what drink I wanted, and I've tuk the 

and now,' s'ze, ' fur the two dollars,' s'ze ; and 



'J 



OR, THE SARANACS AND RACKET. 339 

as he said it, up went his heels, and down come his head- 
piece; and no wonder ; fur I see Jack Tupper a-kinder swing 
his hands down, and Je-rusalem wa'n't Tom mad when he 
scrabbled up ! But by this time, the landlurd 'ad hollored 
out that he'd stand treat ef they wouldn't fight no more ! 
and all stopped right off and tuk a drink round, and was 
good frinds. But the gals, they wouldn't dance no more, 
fur they was mad at bein' left; * fur,' says they, *ef they 
like ter fight better 'n to dance with us, they may go on 
fightin', but we won't put up with no sich doin's ;' and the 
whuU upshot was, we all bruk up and tuk the gals to hum, 
and that was the eend on't. Ondrew ! I'll take a leetle 
suthin' ! B'ys, what '11 yer drink ? It's my treat now !" and 
they all drank round again. 

" Now, Josh," continued the narrator, " as I've give my 
story, you and Abe sing us one o' your songs." 

And two of the group, taking seats side by side and 
clearing their throats, sang in a nasal drawl the following, 
which I have robbed of its vernacular — 



Gusty the day and the lake is wroth ; 
Fearful its face with its flashing froth ; 
Right in our teeth are the wind and foam, 
Down in the hollow, and up on the comb ; 
Onward we dash and we sing in our glee, 
- Things may take care of things, what care we ! 

Sun of October ! how soft its glow ! 
Eager the hounds and away we go I 
Sorrow is working all over the earth ; 
Wrong and injustice are treading on worth ; 
Up springs the deer, and we sing in our glee, 
Things may take care of things, what care we ! 

Starless the midnight and bitter the cold ; 
Wild through the woods is the snow-storm rolled : 
Nought that is human breathes far or nigh, 
Hark how the fierce wolf is pealing his cry 1 
Still round the camp-fire, we sing in our glee. 
Things may take care of things, what care we ! 



340 WOODS AND waters; 

I left the bar-room and strolled for an hour through a 
scene of silver, shaded with ebony, visiting many of the 
localities, and then retired with the music of the rapid lull- 
ing me to slumber. 

The next morning,- after a warm adieu to our good host 
and his kind family, and shaking Harvey's honest hand 
repeatedly, I left the Lake House and its forest luxuries, 
with my companion of the Whiteface visit, in a conveyance 
for Keeseville by way of " The Kotch." 

Again I took the Elizabethtown road, and hailed as an 
old acquaintance the colossal pyramid of Whiteface loom- 
ing from the woods. 

At North Elba, we crossed a bridge where the Ausable 
came winding down, and then followed its bank towards 
the north-east, over a good hard wheel-track, generall}'- 
descending, with the thick woods almost continually around 
us, and the little river shooting darts of light at us through 
the leaves. 

At length a broad summit, rising to a taller one, broke 
above the foliage at our right, and at the same time a 
gigantic mass of rock and forest saluted us upon our left — 
the giant portals of the Notch. We entered. The pass 
suddenly shrank, pressing the rocky river and rough road 
close together. It was a chasm cloven boldly through the 
flank of Whiteface. On each side towered the mountains, 
but at our left, the range rose in still sublimer altitude, 
wixh grand precipices like a majestic wall, or a line of 
palisades climbing sheer from the half-way forests up- 
ward. The crowded row of pines along the broken and 
wavy crest was diminished to a fringe. The whole prospect, 
except the rocks, was dark with thickest, wildest woods. 
As we rode slowly through the still-narrowing gorge, the 
mountains soared higher and higher, as if to scale the 
clouds, presenting truly a terrific majesty. I shrank within 
myself; I seemed to dwindle beneath it. Something alike 
to dread pervaded the scene. The mountains appeared 
knitting their stern brows into one threatening frown at 



841 

our daring intrusion into tbeir stately solitudes. Nothing 
seemed native to the awful landscape but the plunge of the 
torrent and the scream of the eagle. Even the wild, shy 
deer drinking at the stream would have been out of keep- 
ing. Below, at our left, the dark Ausable dashed onward 
with hoarse, foreboding murmurs, in harmony with the 
loneliness and wildness of the spot 

We passed two miles through this sublime avenue, which 
at mid-day was only partially lighted from the narrow roof 
of sky. 

At length the peak of Whiteface itself appeared above 
the acclivity at our left, and once emerging kept in view 
in misty azure. There it stood, its crest — whence I had 
gazed a few days before — rising like some pedestal built 
up by Jove or Pan to overlook his realm. The pinnacles 
piled about it seemed but vast steps reared for its ascent. 
One dark, wooded summit, a mere bulwark of the mighty 
mass above, showed athwart its heart a broad pale streak, 
either the channel of a vanished torrent, or another but far 
less formidable slide. The Notch now broadened, and in a 
rapid descent of the road the Ausable came again in view, 
plunging and twisting down a gorge of rocks, with the foam 
flung at intervals through the skirting trees. At last the 
pass opened into cultivated fields ; the acclivities at our 
right wheeled away sharply east, but Whiteface yet waved 
along the western horizon. On we still pushed, with the 
river brawling at our left, and soon reached the pretty 
little village of Jay, and soon again The Forks, with its 
busy Iron Works; and, keeping the beautiful Ausable 
valley upon our right, we arrived by twilight at Keese- 
ville 

The mellow moonlight found me in the fine steamer. 
The United States, gliding homeward over Lake Cham- 
plain, delighted with my month's excursion through the 
Woods and Waters of the Saranacs and Kacket. 



APPENDII. 



SOME OF THE PRINCIPAL ROUTES 

INTO THE NORTHERN WILDERNESS. 
FEOM EASTERN, SOUTHERN, AND WESTERN NEW YORK. 



I. INTO THE CHATEAUGAY WOODS. 

1st. From Plattsburgh to Dannamora State Prison, and Chazy Lake, 
25 or 30 miles, over a road. 

2d. From Rouse's Point to Chateaugay Four Corners and Chateau- 
gay Lakes. 

II. INTO THE SARANAO REGION. 

3d. By steamboat to Port Kent (or steamboat or railroad to Burlington 
opposite), on Lake Champlain. Thence by post-coach to Keeseville 
(Essex Co.) 4 miles. From Keeseville 46 miles to Baker's Saranac 
Lake House, 2 miles short of the Lovrer Saranac Lake ; or to Martin's 
on the bank of the Lower Saranac ; or to Bartlett's, between Round 
Lake and Upper Saranac Lake, 13 miles from Martin's. 

The Keeseville road is a good, travelled road, planked from Keese- 
ville to Franklin Falls, 30 miles from Keeseville. 

At the village of Ausable Forks, 12 miles from Keeseville, the visitor 
can turn off into a road, through ihe village of Jay, intersecting the 
EUzabethtown road, about 12 miles from Baker's. This road leads 
through the famous Whiteface, or Wilmington Notch. 

4th. By steamboat to Westport on Lake Champlain. Thence to 



344 APPENDIX. 

Elizabethtown, and thence to Baker's, or Martin's, or Bartlett's. This 
route is about the same distance as the Keeseville route, but the road 
is by no means so good. 



III. 



RACKET, AND HUDSON RIVER REGIONS. 



From Crown Point, on Lake Champlain, to Root's, about 20 miles. 
From Root's to the Adirondack Lower Works, 20 miles ; thence to 
Long Lake, 20 miles. A stage runs from Root's to Long Lake usually 
once a week during the summer. 

From the Lower Works to Adirondack village or Upper Works, by 
water (through Lake Sanford), 10 or 12 miles ; by road, do. 

From the Upper Works to Mount Tahawus (Mount Marcy), 4 miles, 
and 3 miles to top. 

From the Upper Works to the famous Indian Pass (the most majes- 
tic natural wonder, next to Niagara, in the State), 4 miles. 

From the Indian Pass to Scott's, on the Elizabethtown road (through 
the woods, with scarcely a path), 7 miles ; thence to Baker's (over a 
road), 14 miles. 

6th. From Glen's Falls to Root's, over a good road, 30 miles, viz. — 

From Glen's Falls to Lake George, 9 miles ; thence to Warrensburgh, 
6 miles ; thence to Chester, 8 or 10 miles ; thence to Pottersville, 6 or 
8 miles ; thence to Root's, and thence to Long Lake, or the Lower or 
the Upper Works. Or, from Pottersville to the Boreas River, 15 
miles. 

7th. From Carthage, in Jefferson County (by way of the Beach 
road), to Long Lake, 40 or 50 miles ; thence to Pendleton, 10 miles ; 
thence to Hudson River Bridge, about 5 miles ; thence to the Lower 
Works, about 5 miles. Can drive the whole distance from Carthage 
to the Lower Works. 

8tli. From Fort Edward to Glen's Falls and Lake George ; thence 
to Johnsburgh; thence to North Creek; thence to Eagle Lake or 
Tallow Lake (the middle of the three Blue Mountain Lakes). From 
North Creek to Eagle Lake, 20 miles. 

9th. By road from Saratoga Springs to Lakes Pleasant and Piseco. 



IV. INTO THE JOHN BROWN TRACT REGION. 

10th. From Utica by railroad to Boonville ; thence to Lymsdale and 
Port Leyden, 7 miles by stage road ; thence to Deacon Abby's place. 



APPENDIX. 345 

5i miles, over a good road ; thence to Arnold's (over rather a poor 
road, although passable by wagon), 14 miles. 

11th. From Utica by railroad to Boonville ; thence to Booth's Mills, 
11 miles, over a good wagon road; thence to Arnold's by packhorses 
(sent by Arnold to Booth's Mills), 14^ miles, over a bad road. 

12th. From Utica by railroad to Alder Creek ; thence by road to the 
Reservoir Lakes. 

13th. From the village of Prospect (Oneida County, and reached by 
railroad), through Herkimer County, to Morehouse, in Hamilton 
County. 

14th. From Ogdensburgh to Potsdam, on the Racket River, by rail- 
road ; thence to Colton by stage, 10 miles ; thence to foot of the Little 
Bog at McEwen's, on the Racket River, 12 miles, by private convey- 
ance, over a good road ; thence by boat, 1^ miles, to Bog Falls ; then 
a short carry on east side of river ; thence to Harris' place, 4^ miles, 
opposite the mouth of the Jordan River ; thence 3i miles, by wagon 
road, to John Ferry's ; thence 3 miles farther on, same road, to foot of 
Moose Head Still Water ; thence through the latter, 6 miles ; thence 
9 miles to Racket Pond, and thence 5 miles to Big Tupper's Lake. 



TIJE END. 



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